


Crescente, cum Dilectione

by e_aramis



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Sephiroth, Children, Creepy Hojo (Compilation of FFVII), Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Female Reader, Growing Up, Hojo (Compilation of FFVII) Being An Asshole, Jenova Project (Compilation of FFVII), Lucrecia Crescent tries to be a good mother, Mad Scientists, Mind Control, Mindbreak, Pregnancy, President Shinra Being An Asshole, Reader is Hojo's Protege, Rufus Shinra Being An Asshole, Sephiroth has children, Shinra Electric Power Company Science Department, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Warning: Hojo (Compilation of FFVII), Young Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), but she's dead, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_aramis/pseuds/e_aramis
Summary: You were bound to Hojo as a protege and mentor. He had trusted you with various responsibilities, some were praiseworthy, some better kept hidden. It was a mutual kind of dependence that benefited both parties. One day the professor granted you access to a whole new part of The Shinra Tower. There laid an unfamiliar territory with a surprise at the end.One surprise in the form of silver and jade barely two winters old.When you first saw him, the thought of witnessing the growth of a child who'd eventually change the world for either worse or better never once crossed your mind.
Relationships: A little bit of Veld/Reader, Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)/Reader
Comments: 99
Kudos: 242
Collections: Reader Insert





	1. Two Winters Old

**Author's Note:**

> Before starting to read, there are some things I want to point out:
> 
> 1\. I gain no profit from writing this. It is written solely for the heck of it, cause I think the fandom deserves more Sephiroth/reader stories.  
> 2\. Reader is female, uses feminine pronounce, and can conceive, but in terms of the level of femininity and visual characteristics, I try to be as vague as possible to give more space for the reader's imagination. So, please, visualize yourself as freely as you are possible to do.  
> 3\. Reader is called “Praenomen” instead of Y/N. It comes from Latin and translates to “forename”, so reader can treat “Praenomen” or “Nomen” (name) as Y/N, and change it with yours respectively.  
> 4\. I will try to include as many canon references as I am able and cater to the timeline of events accordingly (probably some tweaks of time here and there, but not much aside from the reader's part that will be added).  
> 5\. Please feel free to ask me anything or point out any mistakes that I make, I will be honored to answer your questions!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story :)
> 
> Good day.

Rain had been pouring outside your room since midnight. The air of early morning hours became colder both outside and in. The corroded, rickety heater your landlord was too lazy to repair could only help so much. Chill seeped from the cracks between windows to invade what warmth was saved inside your blanket. You had been awake for quite some time, and been pretty much reluctant to leave the coziness of your bed. The pitter-patter of tiny raindrops kept knocking on the glass as you watched it with fluctuating sobriety.

The lids of your eyes fought to keep themselves open. Getting some more rest sounded like a really good idea. The clock showed barely six, and work wouldn’t start until nine. Yes. You supposed more sleep would do no harm. You slowly let yourself be lulled back to slumber as you gave up the thought to wake up early, and actually do your laundry before going to work.

 _‘It was raining anyway’_ , your mind supplied. _‘You won’t be able to dry them.’_

So you slipped back to oblivion with the drizzle of morning rain as your lullaby.

Until, one and a half hours later, the loud ring of a PHS jerked you abruptly awake. You tangled yourself between the sheets and slipped twice in a hasty attempt to reach it. Swiping your unruly hair from your face, you flipped the device open, then instantly paled to find Professor Hojo’s name blinking on the screen. On what business your mentor called you, you could only guess. It was only thirty past seven, far from being considered late. Strange, it must be another matter. You quickly fixed your appearance out of habit and cleared your throat before pushing the green button.

“ _Nomen_!”

“Yes, professor?”

“Come to the lab, I must show you something.”

You looked at your state of your partial undress, then at the mirror to find your disarrayed reflection. Your eyes blinked frantically for a moment. “R-right now, sir?”

“Yes!” His curt response left no room for compromise.

You hadn’t got the chance to say anything for he hung up as sudden as he’d called. Stunned, you took a few seconds to process what just happened. But then another sound, this time a small ping, from your PHS broke the silence. You saw a message from your mentor.

_‘Bring the first volume on Mako Molecular Anatomy.’_

That book was stranded somewhere beneath the pile of your hoard. The old shelf at the corner had been filled long ago with tomes of your past research. Dozens of newer volumes ended up getting stacked on the floor around it to accommodate them in your snug apartment. Under a brief glance, this part of the room might be a mess but for you, well, it was still chaos alright, but the type that was neatly organized.

The required volume lay at the bottom of a stack labeled as “mako basics”. You lifted the heavy books above it one by one, wondering if you needed to up your workout routine after all. You were panting like a dog barely halfway. The academic life really made it easy to submerge one’s attention. For years you’d been doing mostly nothing but burying your nose in books and scriptures. 

What free time you had you spent either assisting your mentor, writing your own research, or catching some sleep, hence the embarrassingly lame mass of muscles in your arms. After nearly dropping the last book and toppling every towering stack over, you breathed a loud sigh of relief at the sight of Mako: Molecular Anatomy and Structure Divisions, First Volume.

For fear of risking your mentor’s wrath, you washed yourself lightning fast, forgetting the idea of brushing your hair altogether as you grabbed a lab coat and your bag in one arm and cradled the book in the other. The sound of your rapid footsteps must be bothering the neighbors. One grandmother from somewhere on the lower floors shot you her elderly disapproving look when you rushed past her. You didn’t even care to say sorry. If Hojo lost his patience waiting for you, he’d ignore your reports for the rest of the day and that would be a problem. He was a man slightly screwed in the head but an exceptional mentor none the less. He’d given you priceless insights to boost your performance time and time again.

You ran through the morning drizzle with the book wrapped under your coat. Shinra tower was just three blocks away. You entered one of the entrance tunnels reserved for employees to avoid getting wetter. A guard saw you panting at the entrance, definitely feeling suspicious toward the disheveled woman holding a bundle of fabric this early in the morning.

“Halt!” The guard approached as you stood still to catch your breath. “What’s inside that?”

Still panting from exertion, you answered with haste, “It’s a book.” Hojo must be wondering where the hell you were at this point. That man did have some crazy standards.

“Show me what’s inside or you will be denied entrance.”

“Oh, Shiva.” You unfurled your coat with slight difficulty, revealing the cover of a thick book.

The idiot guard was still unconvinced. “Open it.”

You blinked incredulously, what in Ifrit’s name did this look like to him? “It’s a book! See? Plain old paper!”

When the guard didn’t say anything, you chose to just ignore him and go ahead, but he pulled the strap of your bag, causing you to jerk backward. “What’s in the bag?”

“For real?!” Hojo would definitely be pissed.

“Entrance will be deni-”

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately in a sense, your PHS rang again, and it was Hojo. He was pissed. You swallowed thickly and slid the device out of your pocket. Answering him was daunting, but not answering him meant certain hell.

“Yes, professor?”

“What is taking you so long, you slug?!”

You peered at the guard. “I’m currently denied entrance, sir.”

“What?!” He screeched so hard, you had to distance your ear from the speaker. “By who?”

You looked at what was written on the man’s name tag. “Uhm…. Markus P., sir.”

Hojo spat at the end of the line, “Tell him to let you pass or he’ll be the one passed into _my_ lab.”

Then the professor hung up, leaving an awkward silence to hang between you and Markus P. Said man was dumbfounded. You decided to pass on what your mentor had said, then, in a moment of peculiar understanding, his face turned five shades paler and he let you pass.

You muffled a thanks.

Down in the lower levels of the tower, was Shinra’s Science & Research Division. The floors were each designated to one specific subdivision. Environmental research was at the topmost floor, followed by civil engineering, mako development, bio-engineering, and lastly were Hojo’s personalized research labs. Only authorized personnel belonging to one of the subdivisions might enter. Every subdivision boasted plenty of confidentiality, in that not all members were permitted to move freely between the levels. You were one of the few who were granted more access due to working directly under Hojo’s mentorship.

The elevator ride was long enough to give you plenty of time to fix yourself. You put on your white coat and combed your hair between your fingers as best as you were able to. Thanks to the early hours, you’d only have to pass three other people beside Markus P., and two of them were overtime workers already knocked out on their desks. Hojo’s labs were inaccessible via the main lift. You had to transfer into a private entrance beyond the common area. The machine blinked green when it scanned your fingerprints, allowing you to descend straight into the professor’s office.

“ _Nomen_. You’re finally here.”

“I’m sorry. I was-”

“Yes, yes.” Hojo waved his hand dismissively, not in the mood to hear your ramblings. “Come here child, and did you bring the book? Good.”

He led you away from the main hall to a winding pathway even you weren’t familiar with. You had the urge to ask where he planned to take you, but thought better. Hojo wouldn’t have called if this was anything but pertained to his research. There was a double metal door at the end of the aisle. Hojo scanned his palm to allow both of you access. You looked around, this was definitely an area you’d never ventured into. Everything about it was unfamiliar. There was an open space with multiple doors on its walls. Several glass windows showed medical facilities and rows of sealed bio-pods. Now you couldn’t scratch the itch to ask away.

“Professor, what’s in the pods?”

Hojo knew exactly what you were referring to. “Those, my dear, are the chrysalis of my latest experiments,” he said. “Let me show you a glimpse of their beauty.”

Your course teetered to one of the doors. He entered with you on his tail. From this distance you could see a series of numbers written on each pod. There were about twenty of them connected to one another and by a single gargantuan pipe. Every pod had a small window about on its door, about as high as your head, but the glasses were tinted black so that you couldn’t get a glimpse of what was inside.

Hojo stopped in front of one labeled P-XII-001. He beckoned you to come closed and you did. A panel on the right side of the window was opened. Hojo typed a series of numbers, and with a smooth whirr, the machine came to life. The tinted glass began to set alight, revealing the familiar green of liquid mako. You stood on your tiptoes to try and get a better look.

“Chimeras?”

“Yes!” Yelled Hojo with a childlike glee. “Oh…. Aren’t they exquisite?”

You observed with keen interest. The specimen behind that door wasn’t anything you had set your eyes on before. It looked humanoid with the characteristics of a cuahl – its skin was patterned, extended whiskers protruded from the top of its mouth, and two huge feline ears stood above its head.

“Taken straight from Gaea’s Cliff, I have enhanced its ability to thrive amongst the harsh winter of the north. They are suited to conquer mountainous terrain as they please.”

“Have you made prototypes, sir?”

“I have, and none were as perfect as this one would be.”

Amazing was too degenerate a word to describe him. You always wondered just how he found the time to create these things amidst the chaos of Shinra’s busiest department. Moreover, lately President Shinra himself had decreed expeditions to plant new reactors in strategic locations. Probably half of the Science & Research Division had to be deployed and here was Hojo, managing everything under his thumb like he was merely playing chess. Even Hollander, the Division Head himself, was having difficulties splitting his responsibilities.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He said suddenly, turning the pod back off. “This is not what I had intended to show you. Let’s not get sidetracked, shall we?”

The professor moved along. In deafening silence you began to wonder who else had ever roamed this place. Curious tools and paraphernalia were scattered all around. You thought the winding path would never end, but then Hojo stopped once again, now before a small metal door. He opened it with, surprisingly, a set of analog keys instead of a digital lock system.

“Now…. I know I need not ask this of you, _Nomen_. You have proven yourself reliable beyond my expectation. But still, I feel like I must inquire something.”

You stared at Hojo. His black eyes behind the round spectacles probed yours. Aware that you were treading on the edge of something unknown, you hesitantly nodded your head. “Yes, professor?”

His glasses flashed for a moment as his chin upturned.

“Do you like children?”

You needed a moment to let the question sink in.

“Do you?”

“I- I’m sorry…. I fail to see how that is relevant to….”

“Just answer me.”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, I don’t have any particular feeling, or, um… _emotion_ toward them.”

Hojo nodded, apparently the answer was enough. “I suggest you get yourself used to having one.” Then he pushed the door open.

Behind it a view you would have least expected to be found in the deepest part of a Shinra lab was revealed. The professor had stepped aside to give you better vision. You doubted your eyes for a moment, but as you moved inside, slow on your feet, you knew that the object lying right before you was, in fact, a crib.

A baby's crib, complete with colorful ornaments and a heap of soft blankets. Such infantile properties were clashing horrendously with the sterile white and grey of the lab. You scanned around it to find even more objects of similar quality littered around the floor.

“What is…,” your words were cut short. As you casted your gaze back into the crib, the previously unmoving lump of velvety blankets had sat up to stare at you with equally curious eyes. They were the most beautiful color of jade you had ever seen.

And they belonged to a baby.

“Behold, my ultimate creation.” Hojo slinked past you, waving his hand to the tiny form in the crib. Said infant followed the movement of your mentor with alertness uncanny to his age. “My son, _Sephiroth_.”

Right in that moment, your jaw dropped. That was…?

“Your s-son…?”

Hojo pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose. His face looked maniacal with a grin splitting it. “And you, _Nomen_ , are the only one besides me who’s been given the privilege of witnessing the wonders of this being. Give me the book and take him out.”

You absently handed the book to your mentor. He had asked to get…what was his name...? Sephiroth? “Pardon me, professor, but I’ve never lifted a child in my life.” You gawked at Hojo with wide eyes, hoping for leniency, yet Hojo had buried his nose inside the pages. Just like any other scientist and their tomes, he was immediately lost, deep in his own mind. That left you with his round-faced ‘offspring’ alone. The little boy directed those jade irises at you, blinking innocently. That only served to unsettle your nerves.

_‘How does one even lift an infant? What if I drop him?!’_

Steeling your resolve, for the sake of your mentor’s trust and your career, you lifted your palms toward the child. They were slightly trembling and your back was damp with perspiration. This felt ridiculous in a sense. Sephiroth was just a bundle of softness oblivious to your inner turmoil when you were only supposed to lift him up. And how in Shiva’s name you were going to _get used_ to this, pray tell.

That calm eyes flicked to your hands as you froze in your way to hold him. You swore you saw him tilt his head one side like he actually understood what was going on, and lifted his arms. Either it was an encouragement or a force of habit, you didn’t know. Since the party involved had seemingly given you an explicit clue on how to handle him, your hands finally landed around his middle. And, _boy_ , was he soft.

A smile inadvertently bloomed on your lips.

Sephiroth was unexpectedly heavy when you lifted him. Or you were simply weak. The living, breathing bundle in your arms offered zero resistant. You cradled him to your chest and immediately the scent of chamomile and all the things calming hit your nose. You’d like to think this was exactly how purity would smell if it had a scent.

“…the aforementioned properties of its distilled liquid will cause the chain reaction of so and so and such…,” Hojo’s mumbling took your attention away from the boy that had begun to suckle on his own hand. You were considering taking it out but the professor addressed you first.

“Put him on the table.”

You walked to the mentioned furniture and carefully put him down, feeling somehow reluctant. Hojo came next to you, dumping the heavy volume in front of his child. He opened a chapter on distilled mako before pointing a finger upon one passage.

“Read, son.”

Your breath literally stopped in your chest. You made a sound teetering between a chortle and a gasp. The sun must have barely reached a quarter of its course yet today had presented so much anomaly. This infant couldn’t have lived longer than 3 winters and his self-proclaimed father asked him to read, an advanced mako science volume none the less! What in the world was going on, you didn’t know. Maybe your glorified mentor had finally snapped. He _did_ have some screws loose in that big head of his.

Hojo casted a challenging look in no way you were capable of defeating, snapping you back in place. You quickly realized your slip and were planning to rectify that mistake when an ambiguous gurgling sound was heard.

If jaws could be taken off its hinges like a door, yours would certainly drop to the floor.

“mmako…ditti..aion”

“In Holy’s name….”

The pipsqueak had just spelled _freaking_ mako distillation, with baby language!

“…te…a- aometioned poppetie isth dilled…,” Sephiroth made a pause, his nose scrunching in confusion.

“Liquid…,” somehow noticing his difficulty, you unconsciously said the next word. The baby pouted for a moment before he tried to copy you and continue the rest of the passage. You were so dumbfounded, you didn’t realize when the miracle had ended until Hojo patted your back.

“I haven’t described your responsibility yet you’ve done it so well. I was right to choose you.”

There wasn’t a word to describe how you felt right then. Years of assisting research under Hojo’s mentorship had put you up against some of the strangest conditions. But this, by far, was the strangest of them all. You swore not once the thought ever crossed your mind, that you’d be a nanny when you signed up to Shinra’s exalted Science & Research Division, still green and a living proverb of an ‘empty cup ready to be filled’. You guessed there would always be things left to surprise you, huh….

“First of all, I have to remind you that what happens in my lab; my research, your work, and anything pertaining to my son, is of utmost confidentiality. You are to assist me in monitoring the growth and development of this child. To make sure he turns into the ultimate prodigy, will be your sole purpose under my wing,” the professor was kind enough to explain only what you needed to hear, as you doubted you’d be able to process much right now. Not after this shocking turn of events. “You, _Nomen_ , are thus now a member of my innermost circle of team. Pack your belongings and move to the tower. You are to stay near my son at all times.”

Your eyes opened wider than the Gold Saucer. Whether you wanted to thank Hojo for suddenly exalting your status and career prospect or sue him for dumping all this responsibility like cold water without consulting you first, you weren’t quite sure. You’d be justified if you sued him for labor extortion. But, all was good, still. You _were_ the one who sold your soul to the devil when you requested a mentorship from Hojo all those years ago after all.

Such was the prologue to your newest chapter in life. It was brusque and unceremonious to a fault. The oath of confidentiality forced you to keep mute. Nobody was to know about anything, not your shock, nor your confusion about how to properly approach the change. Your mentor was the only other person who knew and sadly was better posed as an academic than a colleague. He’d try to analyze the workings of your mind before you even finished telling him a thing. Maybe, you consoled yourself, some other human being would come into the picture later. Although you hadn’t seen any, you were sure there must be more people wandering these labs besides just the professor and you.

At the beginning of the next day, this particular chapter had progressed quite dramatically. You found Shinra personnel moving to and from your rickety abode with boxes and boxes of your belongings. Mainly consisted of books and clothes, then a small number of trivial objects like your favorite chocobowl with its moogle spoon. There were a couple of low-rank guards supervising the whole process, the purpose of whom was quite ambiguous to you, but as they didn’t try to piss anyone off like Markus P., you supposed it was fine. Some nosy neighbors peeped with curiosity, either wanting to know who Shinra had business with, or wondering if you were up to some shady deals with them. You tried your best to ignore them.

To be honest, the whole affair of moving was inconsequential in a greater sense. You have never felt any particular attachment to your home. There wasn’t much to incite emotional fixation, except, perhaps the memory of peace after a hard day’s work, after shower, buried beneath the layers in your bed. But it was just one between too many discontents accumulated throughout years – for instance, the heater could do with some maintenance. Winters were always arctic. You were gladder to finally break free from an old routine. Taking care of a Promethean scientist’s infant certainly opened the door to new and exciting opportunities.

The professor had prepared an empty room prior to your arrival. It was deep down the basement of Shinra Tower, right next to his son’s. Whatever plan Hojo had planned for you to partake in, he surely thought it out well. Accommodation was taken care of and its basic facilities already provided. The new lodging had a bedroom, a living room, one spare room you planned to turn into a study, private bathroom and a kitchen. Though not by much, the space was larger than your previous home, and most importantly, the air conditioner worked perfectly. The only downside was an absence of windows. Bereft walls gave quite the forlorn impression without any chance to glimpse beyond them and into the sky. This would take some time getting used to, but you would manage. Slum residents beneath the plates had it way worse.

When the last of your boxes had been transported down, you learned two things at once. One, your hypothesis was proven true. There were other people besides you and the professor roaming these lowest levels. Janitors and technicians, mainly the latter, had been tirelessly helping you. And two, Sephiroth actually had another proper, professionally acclaimed babysitter named Eredith. You immediately approached the other woman to introduce yourself after chancing upon her with the infant. She had offered her name in return before excusing herself with the boy in her arms. It wasn’t the warmest of welcomes, but you didn’t mind one bit. Simply knowing that she existed to fill that role had lessened the burden you previously thought was much bigger. As they went down the aisles, the baby in her arms turned to stare at you with his green eyes. You absently waved a hand, which, to your delight and astonishment, was replied to with a grabby hand.

The rest of the day was spent unboxing. You had only a handful of things to be unpacked, except of course, the books. Half were deliberately left untouched for another day of labor. The muscles in your arm already screamed with exhaustion before you could even finish arranging the unpacked ones inside the shelves. That left you with two boxes abandoned in the corner of your to-be study. Everything else was already in place by night. You took a long bath afterward and only after you were sure pretty much everything had been settled, you allowed yourself to relax.

* * *

You made a humble portion of toast for breakfast to start the day. Hojo didn’t require you until sometime around 10 in the morning. He had told you to prepare a list of basic science textbooks, preferably illustrated, for his son to begin reading. So you made use of the free time to continue unboxing. From this collection alone, you could submit more than 50 titles to the professor. The existence of multiple bookshelves, each one bigger than what you previously had, displayed the diversity of your collection perfectly. The books were gathered into sections of congruous topics. There were plenty to choose, you had a habit of buying whatever writings caught your attention, though when you finally thought about it, nursery rhymes and clean energy looked astoundingly disparate next to one another.

Just before 10, Hojo took you on a tour while explaining the nature of your job. Beginning from the entrance where you first arrived, to the winding halls and the rooms he deemed necessary for your work. He had programmed an almost unlimited access for you. Only one area remained offlimit for some reason. Despite your curiosity, you decided against probing further unless the man himself allowed you in. Sometimes not knowing was actually easier. The ones you were allowed to enter was interesting enough. You even thought to propose the idea borrowing the bio lab for your own research. Maybe later after having familiarized yourself better, you’d ask the professor.

Sephiroth was waddling around his room when you entered with Hojo sometime near noon. Eredith watched attentively from a distance with his bowl of lunch half eaten. The infant had been so engrossed by a stuffed chocobo that he ignored everyone else completely. The professor glanced at his son once, dismissing the babysitter with a wave of his hand.

“Pardon me, sir, but Sephiroth hasn’t finished his lunch.” Eredith tried to explain.

“Your time is up, Eredith. Just put the bowl somewhere, you are no longer needed.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t leave right away. She gave you a look that could almost be interpreted as a plea. Either she was asking for your help to reason with your mentor or actually hoping you’d continue feeding the baby, you could only stand in silence. The woman received a harsher repetition of the command before she dejectedly put the bowl down on a table. She bowed to Hojo and excused herself. It was the silent frustration on her face that suddenly moved you. Maneuvering with three heavy volumes in your cradle, you called out to her as she was about to close the door.

“I’ll continue feeding him, don’t worry.”

She paused to look at you as if you had grown a wing. Her smile was subtle yet genuine as can be when it appeared. “Thank you,” she said with relief, then left.

“Troublesome woman, that one,” you heard Hojo mutter in her absence. “Sephiroth this, Sephiroth that. Always making excuses for her own incompetence.”

You’d been here barely a day. Everyone but Hojo were still strangers to you. There was no way your input on the matter would be credible, so you opted to make none. You simply headed to the table where the last half of Sephiroth’s lunch was, putting the books you brought right next to it.

“Come here, _Nomen_.” Your mentor gave you a clipboard. He showed the papers attached to it. There was a table containing multiple statements which had to be filled and sometimes rated on a scale from one to ten.

“My son is _unique_. He is far beyond his age, he knows how to process more and more complex stimuli every day as his adaptability runs high compared to most, mediocre infants.” You had never heard your mentor speak with that level of pride before. “But alas,” he casted his eyes at the sight of Sephiroth not six feet away, playing with the same stuffed animal, “A child is still a child.”

Hojo closed the distance between him and his son. His figure towered over the boy. “He lacks the ability to focus on what matters.” Sephiroth didn’t even heed the other’s presence, still too happily hugging the chocobo when Hojo took it from his tiny hands. For a second there was this stifling, immovable tension going on between them. A battle of willpower between a father and his son. Hojo kept the toy away from him, staring the infant down with intense scrutiny. “Bring the book here.” You snapped out of your trance, scurrying to get the book for the man. He exchanged the book with it. In lack of a better thought of what to do, you just held it like an idiot.

The child looked really upset. His mouth curved downward, his hands made tiny fists where they previously had held the stuffed animal, and his eyes…. You thought he was about to cry, but looking closer, those eyes actually held an entirely different emotion. Never had you ever seen a baby holding such anger in silence. Children are supposedly prone to tears and tantrums. Not with him. He, for the second time, looked uncannily beyond his age. It was honestly ironic because mere moments ago he looked exactly how any infant would with the toy you currently had.

“Playtime’s over, son,” Hojo shoved the book closer. He opened its first chapter. “You have so much potential. I didn’t go through the trouble to create you with failure in mind, so don’t waste your time.”

That immovable tension increased tenfold. You shifted in your spot, wondering why the mere scene of a parent scolding his child seemed to bother you. But then again, seeing as the parent was your mentor and his child had the tendency to be creepily uncanny each time you saw him, this couldn’t be considered normal at all, and you didn’t have a child anyway, you wouldn’t know.

“Make sure you don’t miss anything on that list.” He said to you. Sephiroth was still glaring at him from the floor. “All the tool you will require is in there,” he said, pointing at an overhead cabinet. “If you have questions, message me.”

“Should I call Eredith back when I’m finished?”

Hojo snorted. “Just leave after you’re done. This child gets too spoiled with her.”

Like countless times before, you shut your mouth even though you disagreed. That child was independent enough. Hojo just had illogical standards most times.

“I will leave you to it, then. Report to me later tonight.” Unexpectedly, he began to go. You hastily asked the man in panic. “Wha- You’re not staying, professor?”

Said professor sighed with his distinct flair. “I am occupied and will be for some time. The President requires me. That’s why I must entrust some things to you, _Nomen_. I believe you can handle it well. Now, I shall leave you to it.”

Just like Eredith previously did, he was gone, leaving you and his less than pleased infant alone. You peered at him nervously. He was hunched over the book that looked too big for his tiny figure. The child still looked upset.

“Um….” There was that list in your one hand and his toy in the other. You tried to weigh the value of each. As you inspected what was on the list, you instantly thought it was both intriguing and ridiculous.

**PROJECT-S**

Report: 07-10-1983

J-01.S1.16817.00599.000.6

Subject Name: Sephiroth

D.O.B.: 05-05-1981

Age: 2 year 5 month

  1. **Physical Development**



  1. _Cephal_



  * Circumference:
  * Shape:



  1. _Facio_



  * Length:
  * Width:
  * Iris color:
  * Teeth condition:



  1. _Brachium_



  * Length:
  * Circumference:
  * Flexibility:
  * Strength:



(….)

The whole first page of the document was all about the boy’s physical growth. There were even 10 pages in total, things were quite normal up to the point where Hojo actually wanted you to rate the child’s understanding of certain vocabularies like ‘cathode’ and ‘anode’. You didn’t mean to underestimate Sephiroth’s ability as he had proven to be quite the anomaly just after three brief meetings, you simply found it hard to believe that a two-year-old had to put up with this level of standard. You shook your head incredulously.

Looking at him now, it kind of answered some of the mysteries his uncanny behavior emitted. If Hojo had done something to make ‘his son’ biologically enhanced, he was bound to be different in some ways.

“Sephiroth?” He gave you a scrunched nose and nothing else. The child fumbled with the hem of his shirt under your constant gaze, as if hesitating with whatever he decided to do next. You were about to strike up a conversation when his tiny hands landed on the book.

He began to read.

“In e be..begin’in o’ e book-”

“Um…Sephiroth?”

“-a in…indodooction o ele..men-”

“Hey,” you put a hand to cover the page gently. “Seph, stop for a second, yeah?”

He turned to look at you with the most flustered expression a baby could ever muster.

“I haven’t told you my name, right? My name’s _Nomen_.”

There was silence after your awkward attempt at introduction. He still didn’t say a word, just stared at you with the same expression. You started to wonder if he actually understood what you had said. The child got tired of looking at you after a few seconds and dived back into the book, but you were persistent.

You plopped the stuffed animal in front of his line of vision.

This time when he looked at you, not only was he flustered, but his eyes were also round with surprise. He was visibly teetering between holding himself back or just accepting the offering. Almost a minute passed with him freezing up. To your surprise he pushed the animal back to you. His face looked so conflicted it made you feel bad.

You quickly put the toy back on top of the book. “Didn’t you want to play?”

Sephiroth now fumbled with his fingers. His pout was back. “Tis a test….”

“No! I’m not testing you, kid. Oh, by the Goddess.” Your lips turned to a smile. Without even giving it a second thought, you patted the boy’s head. He then froze again. It was unclear whether he felt offended by the touch. Do kids even feel offended? Alas, you began pulling your hand away, but he suddenly grabbed your wrist with tiny hands and put it back on his hair, looking at you with an annoyed expression.

He _liked_ it.

Just like you would with a cat, you petted his head. He leaned into your touch with the same pissed off face, but his body was relaxed. You took the chance to shove his chocobo at him. Fortunately, he immediately accepted. The two of you stayed that way for a while. It felt comfortable. Your heart was warmed up in the face of this unexpected softness.

“I promised Eredith you’ll finish lunch, sooo…before we start everything, let’s eat first, okay?”

His jade irises peered from below your palm. He looked unsure.

“You can keep the chocobo. I won’t take it away. I promise!”

After he nodded, you immediately took the bowl temporarily abandoned on the table. He was nothing but cooperative and you were relieved for it. Sephiroth munched his food with the toy never leaving his hands. You utilized the interval between each spoon to start measuring the boy’s physique. He was quite the slow eater, taking all the time in the world to chew. By when he finally finished lunch, you had managed to fill the first page of the document.

Hours went by unnoticed as the examination process was carried on. He time and time again amazed you with the ability to maintain almost unwavering focus. He actually always wanted to play, sometimes allowing himself to take a toy lying around when your attention was elsewhere. But once you subjected him to another test, he rallied all of himself to it. It was mesmerizing to watch.

Somewhere along the way, Eredith actually came knocking at the door. She brought biscuits and a bottle of milk for the infant’s afternoon meal. The woman didn’t say much to you, she just politely asked to feed Sephiroth again and brought the empty bowl away. Nothing much happened after that. You allowed the boy to munch on his snack while you asked him questions or told him to perform some task.

At some point you came across the question of whether Sephiroth understood some terms written on the paper – the cathode and anode one. You sighed exasperatedly. The child was currently drawing something resembling his favorite stuffed animal, if you weren’t mistaken. You leaned over him, asking just for sure, “Is that your chocobo?”

“Uh-huh.”

You nodded appreciatively. His skill was decent enough for his drawing to be understood. That indicated a capability to understand and replicate the existence of objects around him. You quickly took a note.

“Um…kid?”

“Hm?”

“Can you read these two words for me?” You showed the nouns for him to spell. He studied them momentarily and tried. “Ca’ffode an’ an….”

“Anode.”

“…aode.”

“That’s right,” you gave him a smile and another pat on the head. “Do you know what they mean?”

He shook his head hesitantly.

“Alright….” You thought to yourself the best way of explaining it to him. “Do you know battery?”

“Un…yea.”

“Cathode is the part of a battery that has the [+] symbol, while anode has [-].”

Sephiroth stared at you silently. He didn’t seem to get what you mean, so you looked around. Amidst the toy lying around was a fake gun, colored in bright colors appealing to children. You took it and opened the battery case.

“Here, look, there’s a [+] sign here and a [-] sign. This one is the cathode and this one is anode. The battery has power, it runs to the gun from here to here. Without one of these two, the power is stuck in one side, just like a road that’s blocked.”

“They…’re like ‘oors?”

You smiled fondly, “Yes, yes! They’re like doors. If they’re not set in properly, the power from the battery won’t flow to the gun, just like one can’t pass through a door if it’s not opened.”

The boy was astute. You never had to explain things twice as long as you gave him a good example. Filling the rest of the document became nothing but a breeze. Before you knew it, you had completed the day’s report. Sephiroth also looked bored, the chocobo was back in his cradle as he laid on the floor, his tiny fingers fumbled with its feathery butt. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. This was the first time you interacted with him and you could already see various shades of his personality. At times, his calm demeanor and self-restraint made you feel like there was someone much older trapped inside that tiny body, then there were also times like these, when he behaved innocently like every other child in the Planet did. He was highly intriguing at such a young age and you dared to bet he would continue to be so when he grows up.

Having nothing else to do left but gawk at the tiny boy caressing a fluffy chocobo butt, you took another brief moment to appreciate it before preparing to leave. Your task was over technically, but you couldn’t help feeling like there was more you could do. Then an idea struck your mind.

“Seph, stay here, okay? I’m gonna get something for you.”

You hurried to your room, heading straight to the bookshelves. At the children’s section was a compilation of nursery rhymes and tales. You scanned the titles with keen eyes, finding the one you were looking for right away, then quickly headed back to Sephiroth’s. The boy was still on his back when you returned. You approached him with an enthusiastic smile plastered on your face.

“Look what I’ve got.”

The boy looked at you half-heartedly. He was definitely done for the day. Then he saw the book you had brought. He quickly sat up to take it.

Below the title – _Pickle in a Fickle!_ – was a picture of one golden chocobo, just like his toy, staring at two gysahl greens completely bamboozled. “Chochobo!” Sephiroth pointed at the character.

“Yes, the same as yours. His name is Pickle.”

“’ickle…,” the boy copied. He wasted no time opening it, eyes seemingly glittering with wonder to see illustrated pages instead of black and white passages. You waited patiently for him to start reading. But the moment he saw some passages, he pouted.

You blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“’m tired weadin’.”

Ah…. That made sense. He’d been forced to spell hundreds of words in a day. Some people didn’t even bother to read. The young boy had accomplished nothing short of a feat. You supposed he was justified to call it a day.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

His giddiness was back instantaneously, “Yea! Wead it!”

So began your habit of bringing children’s books to him. He spent from morning ‘til sundown doing his best with the examination and you rewarded him with new tales almost every day. He was always tired by the end that you had to read to him. The young boy listened with rapt attention, sometimes sitting beside you while playing with Pickle – he named his chocobo after you narrated the story, some other times getting into your lap to see the pages as you read.

Eredith started to give you smiles that grew bigger each time you saw her, though you two still hadn’t talked much aside from some pleasantries and formalities. She was always there when you came in the morning, then proceeded to make herself scarce all day long, only coming in once or twice to deliver foods and drinks. By sundown, you’d be bidding little Seph a goodbye. Eredith was already by the door when you exited. You nodded your head politely and let her be to do her job.

By night, Hojo would call you to his office and ask for a report. He’d inspect the documents you filled every single day, taking notes of certain aspects that he deemed significant. The professor was overall pleased with his son’s progress, seemingly unaware of the new habit you had helped him build. If your mentor knew anything about you adding non-academic books – nonsense _jabberwockies_ , he’d said – to his son’s curriculum, he had certainly done nothing to stop it.

Sephiroth had become much more open to you after a month of constant meeting. He would happily stand by the door every day at 10 o’clock, the time you were supposed to get in. He kept urging you to hurry with the tests so he would get to hear another story. You gladly did as he asked, it was a win-win situation for all anyway. The effects of your diligence was showing, and it affected everyone. Hojo rarely spoke harshly to his son nor Eredith, he gave you a raise, and most importantly, approved your proposal to borrow the bio lab for the sake of your own research. He didn’t question your intentions much, simply asked you to not let it hinder your main responsibility with Sephiroth. He only allowed you to use them at night when you were done reporting. Without hesitation you agreed.

Life became much easier than ever before. For once things were actually going the right way. You couldn’t be more grateful, to the professor, to fate, and to the fluff of silver and jade who was the reason for it all. By the time you went to bed, the only thing that came to your mind was which story you should bring tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated after Whovianbi___girl helped me to proofread it! Now I have to remove the 'no beta we die like men' tag, haha. Anyway, they write stories about The Walking Dead, Shadowhunters, Star Wars, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, and Merlin. Go on and check their works, they're lovely :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)


	2. Brewing in the Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is brewing in winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me thank my proofreader, Whovianbi___girl (yay no more no beta we die like men :D ). They write fanfics about The Walking Dead, Shadowhunters, Star Wars, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, and Merlin. If you're part of the fandom or simply curious, please check it out!
> 
> I recently made a fan art of our 2 Y.O. baby and his beloved Pickle. It's here if you're interested to see him without the usual handsomeness: https://e-aramis.tumblr.com/post/621717434458603520/believe-it-or-not-its-supposed-to-be-sephiroth
> 
> And in case you're wondering, since this story is set like 20 years prior to the canon timeline of FFVII, yes, everyone's still young. Including Hojo. He always looks so hideous that it gives me insomnia. Just how in hell was the father so different from his son? I found an answer, though, haha. Here, some blessed person made an edit of Hojo's face to make him look decades younger, it was so good that I had to reblog it: https://e-aramis.tumblr.com/post/621718399733710848/son-of-jenova-ffvii-remake-manips-5-young
> 
> Last one, I found magic. Like, really, guys, it's practically magic. It's a browser extension for Chrome that can CHANGE THE NAME OF THE READER! YES I DID NOT MISSPELL ANYTHING! The name of the extension is "InteractiveFics" If you want to experience a better journey while reading, I highly recommend this. You can get it here for FREE (Oh God yes, whoever made this pls bless them): https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/interactivefics/pcpjpdomcbnlkbghmchnjgeejpdlonli?hl=en
> 
> Just remember to use Chrome and change any kind of Y/N, or in this case, Nomen to any name you want! Enjoy!

"On average, the subject’s analytical skills has increased by seven to eight points within the last sixty days. The provision of 10-minute interspersions after every 20 minutes of exercise has so far become the most effective method. Sephiroth’s physical growth is also above average. The density of his muscle and bone tissue at the end of the test period is equivalent to children three to four years of age."

A video was played on the projection screen. You explained the ascension chart drawn based on the test results, trying to settle your nerves down in front of a dozen pairs of eyes watching from the darkness.

Hojo sat not far away, his expression unreadable every time you accidentally glanced at the man. A bead of sweat rolled down your back despite the air being temperate. You tried your best to keep your arms close for fear the audience could see how hard you shook. The only thing that could distract you was a recording of Sephiroth. In the videos, the infant grew increasingly fluent verbally. Pickle was always in sight, only trusted to you once, when he was asked to lift two ball loads in each hand.

"We’ve come to conclude, Project-S has exceeded the targets previously proposed at the beginning of the year.”

The whole room clapped after you. You bowed low and hurried back to your seat behind Hojo. He tilted his head toward you and nodded in approbation. Immediately, you grinned, trusting the darkness to hide your stupid face.

"This is sublime. Well done. I ask for one project from each division deserving a position in the main agenda for next year's Funding Plan. Choose carefully, Hollander." President Shinra spoke from the head of the table, a cigar burning in between his fingers.

Hollander looked at Hojo with an intense displeasure and the professor frowned back. You witnessed in silence, incapable of interpreting their hostility. Your mentor was beginning to speak before Hollander pompously replied to Shinra. A discourteous question was thrown, "Mr. President, either I misheard or you misspoke, sir, but 'one project'? As you know, Research & Science Division nurtures not just Hojo’s, but some other consequential projects, including _mine_ , for the benefit of your company, why suddenly just one?"

The meeting room fell into a tense atmosphere. The president had frozen half its occupants when he exhaled a twisting wisps of smoke. A clear sign of irk. Without realizing, you shifted your chair an inch behind your mentor. Nobody dared to speak further.

"You are indeed deaf." President Shinra mocked the division head. The embers of his cigar glowed red as he inhaled deeply. "Expansion will be a priority starting next year. Funding must be arranged. I will not approve any squandering."

Hollander almost shrank in his chair. Even his large-mouth was sealed once Shinra had issued a decree. The president didn’t bother wasting more time. He immediately diverted the topic to more pressing matters, continuing the meeting efficiently as it should.

Over Hojo's shoulder, you could see Hollander staring at the professor. He looked far more disgruntled than his colleague.

Subsequent to the meeting, everybody disbanded to busy themselves with their respective works. You released a loud sigh of relief, garnering an almost eye-roll from Hojo. It was the first time you were asked to join a year-end meeting. Your mentor announced it three days ago, " _Nomen_ , prepare the annual report," he had said, and absently, you obeyed without question. You summarized the results of your work during the last two months. When you came to hand it over, to your confusion, Hojo returned it. You felt like passing out when he said you would be the one presenting. Luckily he never intended on letting you do it alone.

You followed the professor like a puppy, still gleaming from surviving such a nerve-wrack. Sadly amidst the calm, bad luck just had to strike. An unexpected figure appeared some steps behind. You called the professor to warn him of the arrival, but it seemed he, too, already knew and was intending to not give a fuck.

"Stop, you crackpot!" Hollander’s shout echoed in the hallway. Hojo sauntered away casually and it successfully annoyed the other. He rivaled your steps to block the professor. Hollander looked so hideous, heaving like that. He took a breath for a moment, eyes never leaving Hojo’s calm visage. "Listen to me," he whispered vengefully, fingers pointing, "You think cause Shinra gave you a little praise, you’re so exceptional."

"If you’re so desperate to flaunt your superiority, please, go to someone more dim-witted than you, imbecile. I’m sure there isn’t any." The professor's answer almost made you chortle. Hollander's face turned red as a shrimp.

The division head immediately turned his attention to you. You faked a frantic cough to hide laughter. Fortunately, before he could spit out venom, Hojo added, "If you want your failure to be chosen, I highly recommend actually taking care of it rather than blabbering here. Now excuse me," the professor walked around Hollander, you immediately followed him while keeping a furthest possible distance from the Division Head.

Left alone with unresolved anger and humiliation, the man shouted again like a lunatic. "I AM the head of this division! See what I will do, Hojo!"

Your mentor was often crazy, but you would vote for him anytime. Hollander posed as a complete idiot – either deliberate or not – before the man. That attitude clearly showcased the vast gap between their intelligence. You kept questioning _why_ that squawfish was the head of a division. Did Shinra forget to take his aspirin when he appointed him? Was the president half asleep? The mystery instantly entered your long list of ‘things-to-ask-Hojo’.

Back in the peace of the lab, any thought of relaxation perished. Your mentor discarded three thick documents to be sorted ASAP, all without mercy. You peered at the towering piles, smiling as neutrally as possible, while screeching like the dead inside. It was barely noon and the professor was so fired up already. You took a calming breath. Everything could be finished before sunset. Hopefully Hojo wouldn’t dump additional papers in the middle of it. But seeing some three other piles that were still piled up on your mentor's desk, a bud of anxiety started to flower. Today you planned to clock out before eight. There was something you intended to do, just this time.

"Professor, may I ask for permission to leave early today?" Your voice sounded really nervous, if the lab wasn't this quiet, no way Hojo would have heard it.

Your mentor glared sharply from his desk. You immediately explained before he thought you intended to abandon work. "I, uh, there's a place I want to visit tonight, sir. Just this time! I will finish this as fast as I can, and if you allow it, I will do the rest later, before the deadline. But…not tonight."

Waiting for an answer in front of the man felt like eternity. If he didn’t answer in five seconds, you were sure your heart would come off. Fortunately, no such thing happened. He nodded curtly, and like magic, you beamed. Long hours were passed with efficacy. Today's hard work got lighter against what reward would wait at the end of the day. The professor gave questioning looks when you submitted four consequent reports in less than two hours. He sensed your haste to finish, and being the cunning man that he was, used it to his advantage. Every now and then, he’d send you two departments away to fetch required files. You went to one employee after another without complaint. One of them was a familiar face. He smiled as you approached the desk.

" _Nomen_! Still alive after the meeting?"

You shuddered to remember what had happened. He had no idea whatsoever. “The president was a feast for the eye but looked scarier than a devil when upset. I felt like dying, just so you know." He cracked up when you mentioned how Hollander got slandered. Several other employees who eavesdropped suddenly joined along to disclose more gossip. 

Everyone agreed, it was fun to gossip about ridiculous people.

"By the way, Germoir, are you free tonight?" You asked your colleague when the others had disbanded.

Hearing your question, he pondered, looking at the calendar. He made a face that spoke of regret. The answer cannot be clearer. "Sorry, my children would be happy if I went home early today. Maybe next time? I'll take my family along too."

Of course he would refuse. You’d never met a person who would want to waste a chance of free time. Unless they were a security guard unlucky enough to get a shift tonight. Or had someone like Hojo as a superior. Or, yeah, Hojo himself. Germoir was lucky, as were everyone else on his team, to work under Tuesti's supervision. That man was the only sane official you knew in this company.

"No problem. Say hi to your wife for me. Thanks." A data sheet was handed to you as requested. Finally, the necessary documents were complete.

When all had been sorted, examined, and approved, you literally jumped from your chair. To Hojo, you bowed good evening. He gave no response other than a soft growl which translated to, "Hurry up and leave, brat, let me work in peace."

You ran along the halls to your room, a stupid smile on your lips.

* * *

Merry were the faces of those who chose to come down into the slums, and mingled amongst tatterdemalions on the last day of the twelfth month. That was what you accidentally learned in the beginning of your lonely stay. A metropolis bustling with people and vast, so much so that sometimes those below its plates thought Midgar was larger than life itself. In a sense, it was correct. You came here bringing nothing but hope. You prayed every night: may one day you find your place within this city of dreams. You were so sure that, at least, one soul would be kind enough to give you a chance. Your mother had been a hard worker and so was her daughter. You were prepared to give it your all.

It was the harshest of reality that had hit you, straight in the face. The marking of a _summa cum laude_ from your postgraduate school meant little to Shinra’s insipid army of recruiters. The company was going to reject anything deviating their standards. Among three thousand or so applicants, you were deemed unbefitting the determined mold. They never threw a second glance. Your presence, just another ripple in the sea of ambitious younglings. Four times was the exact number you applied, five times rejected. At one point they could discern your face from meters away and instantly, “No more reapplication allowed,” was said before you could even reach the desk.

The earth was pulled from under your feet. What other options you had, aside from using what little knowledge you gained after years of blood, sweat, and tears, you knew not. Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe you weren’t as great as your mother made you believe. Maybe Minerva had made a mistake. Maybe, maybe, maybe…. So many maybes and not a single certainty. You were brimming with anguish that you had to let loose. Drinking sorrow away with booze wasn’t the best picture of ‘you’, but surely leniency must be allowed from time to time. Going down the plate to sector five became the first plan that came to mind. You just had to go, pick a random bar somewhere, and probably cry yourself to oblivion in the corner until the bouncer kicked you out.

It was simple.

That plan changed, though. Caught in the mess that was your own mind, you had forgotten to check the calendar entirely. Instead of somber and desolate faces, you were utterly bewildered to find an array of smiling slum dwellers, down in the fifth sector, dancing the night away with glee. The rags of their clothing fluttered gloriously like flags blown by the wind. Gray and brown were now embellished with seven shades of the rainbow. Without the envelope of an open sky, they just had to be creative with some LEDs. All around, glittering lights mimicked the dazzling burst of fireworks. Either because you were gobsmacked or your standards plummeted lower than your spirits, you thought them so gorgeous that it bordered on being otherworldly.

You still got drunk that night, but at least you didn’t get to cry.

At the end of your fourth year since coming here, you found yourself back underplate. You regarded your reflection in the cracked mirror of a merchant’s stall. One old scarf – _blue_ as the sea, if your memory hadn’t failed you – coiled around your neck akin to a snake would a crane’s. The threads were soft to the touch of your skin. Its thick wool provided ample protection against cold weather. You wore four layered winter wear despite Midgar paling in comparison to the Northern blizzard, but then, you never were a fan of winters. Underneath the blue scarf laid three layers of more wool, and on the outermost was the high collar of your coat. This additional piece of clothing made everything more bearable. You could bury your face in it when a freezing breeze blew.

“How much is this?”

The merchant approached with a wide smile, “Just 6 gil for a lovely lady, please!”

 _Why_ , it was cheaper than you thought. The purchase was a bargain well earned. You bade goodbye to meander the crowded streets, frame mingled amidst hundreds and hundreds of people walking alongside, hand in hand with friends, family, or loved ones. Warmth spread in your chest at the sight of joy prevailing in this normally desolate place. For a night, the slum was filled with people who looked ecstatic, they wouldn’t trade a second of this for anything else. A pity the only thing you had in hand was a camera. Had you brought someone else, you would be able to share the festivity as boisterous sounds of celebration amplified toward midnight.

So, to distract the absence of a companion, you busied yourself capturing every moment. The clicks of camera a never ending beat complementing the blast of music. Contrasting colors of lights were vivid against the slum’s eternal darkness. Merchants had traded their usual vendible items with ones more colorful, just for tonight. They were a major subject of your interest. Both your camera and wallet provided evidence of how bewitched their master had become. Every stall that caught your eye you visited. Halfway to midnight three bags of souvenirs were already hanging from your elbow. They consisted mostly of random trinkets, curious objects with strange shapes and colors with origins unknown. They could be as worthless as dirt or be more expensive than your entire property. It was all a mystery.

When a minute countdown to midnight finally came, the music momentarily stopped. You stood steady with camera in hand as firecrackers exploded one by one, marking the year 1983’s last ten seconds. The people’s cheers grew even louder. As the explosion ceased and silence bore down a moment, the music immediately blasted again with renewed brio. You captured the merriment from behind a lens. People threw their hands up to the air, inviting their companions to a first dance of the year. Lovers engaged in frantic beats. Friends held hands to dance in a circle, their faces were mirrors of genuine felicity. Your smile bloomed like a voyeur behind the viewfinder. There, at the far end of the street, a group of children varying in age danced together to their hearts’ content. 

Among them the youngest was stomping his tiny feet into the ground. His hands held by two bigger, older children. Occasionally, as the group circled around in their dance, the youngest would be lifted off. He wore the purest expression of happiness a human being could ever make.

The sight was reminiscent of a certain child about the boy’s age. Your smile slowly diminished. Suddenly, the plan to linger until daylight lost its appeal. You became too aware of how alone you were, of how ephemeral the night was. When sunlight arrived, you must return to the Tower. Life would go on as usual as if this small burst of happiness never happened. 

So before the gloom struck too deeply, you chose to retreat. There would still be next year to anticipate, hopefully with someone else. You finished taking the last photograph before tucking the camera in its case. The sight of an upper plate entrance was visible from a great distance away. You steered your steps toward it, nodding at the elevator guards as they came into view. You showed your ID and ascended somberly.

The sky was still dark when you returned above. The air now much cooler up here, without the shield of a plate nor the warmth of crowded festivities, strong wind blew freely straight from wastelands around Midgar. Shinra hosted an extravagant party at every year’s end, but aside from a splendid show of mega fireworks, nothing much was enjoyable for the rest of its residents. Unless, of course, you were part of the gentility with enough gil to last a lifetime. Sector three must be brimming with life, considering the sheer amount of money they threw away like garbage. The working class, the bourgeois, most chose to stay at home, basking in the coziness of their hearth with family and friends. Therefore the unusually vacant streets.

You scurried to the Tower while tightening the coat around your body. The newest addition to your clothing was undeniably useful. Breathing was kept warm under its coils. One or two people passed by in the same hurry to reach indoors. You entered the Tower with shivers ransacking your body. Fortunately the guard wasn’t keen on troubling anyone tonight. He jerked his head after examining your ID, not demanding to check whatever was inside your bags. Thank the weather for that. He was visibly uncomfortable like you were. The walk continued on with leisure now that you had escaped open air. The office was empty akin to the streets. Just one or two guards were seen patrolling the building lazily. They would much prefer not working at this time of the year, it couldn’t be more obvious on their faces. You shot some a sympathetic smile and a celebratory exclamation of, “Happy new year,” out of the blue, to which they either ignored or replied with another smile.

A ding of the elevator marked the end to your descent. Stepping out, you found the basements were even more devoid of life than entry levels. The lights of the main halls had been dimmed to save energy. Unoccupied labs and storerooms were all pitch black. You swallowed thickly. The eerie ambience wasn’t exactly what bothered you, for you were more afraid of some things, deep in the right dungeons, creeping quietly and awaiting. For the next meal, the next sign of human beings, one could only guess what. You piously prayed Shinra’s choice to save energy didn’t equal to lowering security. The winding halls to Hojo’s private labs were as mute as they had always been. After two months stepping in and out of the place, your feet already adapted to its course, walking gracefully on autopilot. Your head was already way up in the clouds. The only thing snapping you back was a sound coming from a lab just after the entrance. You halted in your tracks, both startled and curious as of what the source might be.

Amidst the dimmed lights, more sounds were coming from the same place. You waited with anguish. It was transient, coming in and out of your hearing range at random intervals. The voice sounded male, but human or not, you couldn’t be sure. Your mind found the hint of danger too intriguing to resist. Despite another part of you blaring in alarm, trying to beat some sense into you, you _just_ couldn’t be reasonable to save your life. Instead of hurrying to your room just fifty or so meters away, absently you approached the door and stuck your ear on it, hoping to get a better chance at hearing.

The sound had stopped. You furrowed your brows, closing your eyes in hopes of focusing the senses toward your ears. Strangely, nothing else came. Only ringing silence greeted you. Mere moments ago you were so sure, some other presence existed in the same place. You took off your gloves and put a palm against your forehead.

You weren’t feverish, neither were you drunk. The slums did have some of the strongest booze, smuggled from faraway land of Wutai, readily supplied to anyone who sought it. Midgar’s most notorious wine connoisseurs were well known to be loyal consumers. But neither were you one nor did you seek to be one tonight. Hell, you could even barely remember the last time you got drunk.

In the middle of considering a visit to an otolaryngologist, the door next to your head was suddenly opened. You dove nose first to the other side, but rather than kissing the floor, your face hit the chest of a certain someone you least hoped to be witnessing your idiocy.

“Professor!” You never stood straighter once in your life. Rubbing your nose awkwardly, your eyes frantically searched for another object to look at beside Hojo’s eternal frown. “Are you still working?”

The professor shot you a dirty look, his nose scrunched in disgust, “Were you going into the slums?”

You swallowed to quench a sudden dryness in your throat. “Y-yes, sir.”

“You clocked out early to-” He sounded repulsed, about to throw his typical mockeries, but then his words were cut short. “Whatever, brat.” He sneered, not exactly at you, then walked past as if no one else was there at all. You were too busy making way for the man that you forgot to check behind the door. Hojo had closed it before you got a chance to peek in. You could easily enter had you wished to, but the moment seemed inappropriate, so you opted to follow him deeper into the aisles.

“What’re you working on, professor?”

For some time you thought the man was going to ignore you, but just before he got into another lab, he stopped to give a vague answer, “Not much, _Nomen_ ,” he paused as if unsure, “Not enough.”

He stared into nothing. A demand for explanation was at the tip of your tongue, but seeing the man in deep thought, you decided against it. Hojo gradually came back from his trance. He was about to enter the lab, but your voice held him back.

“Happy new year!”

You had never seen the professor’s eyes so round with surprise before. He looked at you as if you’d grown a second head. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you reached for a small trinket in one of your bags.

“For you, professor. I got it from the market.” You handed a small compass with arrows that deviated two degrees away from the north-pole.

Hojo looked at the tiny object in your hand, unimpressed. “It is of no use to me.”

“Sometimes they didn’t have to be useful, sir, it’s just for fun. It could be your lucky charm, who knew, right?”

Your hand hung in the air without getting a response. The professor’s expression grew increasingly aggravated. 

He didn’t even need to mutter a thing for you to start reconsidering your action. Hojo hated going underplate and you offered him an object obtained from the slums. How _smart_.

“Uh…. Sorry.” You retracted your arm in defeat.

“Go away and enjoy your holiday or whatever pleases you. Let me be at peace.”

“Holiday?” Your head snapped up with hope. “What holiday?”

“Your _‘happy new year’_ holiday.”

“But? But the deadline?”

“I won’t repeat myself!” Then he slammed the door close.

You stood dumbfounded, jaw hanging, hand frozen in the air. In all your experience of working under Hojo, the man had never shown any regard toward holidays. You had never seen him rest, sleep, or eat! He was always busy roaming the labs or scheming with the higher ups. Sometimes you wondered if he possessed some kind of superpower to persevere this long. His never ending work hours came from a set of insane standards he extended beyond himself. You could testify as witness if someone finally decided to actually sue him. About a year after you first worked here, there were about a dozen employees that had to be replaced. Most of them quit out of their own volition, but some were dismissed by the professor himself. You had given your opinion following the matter, and as a result, he lessened the burden of his subordinates at times, but to fully acknowledge a holiday? This was a first.

The professor’s peculiar approval kept repeating in your head. You reanalyzed his words over and over again, wary that he had said it in sarcasm, and you being an idiot, mistook it for leniency. The warm shower did nothing to answer your question. Even now, lying on the bed while staring listlessly at the ceiling, you still debated on whether you should set an alarm before nine or not. If what Hojo said held no hidden meaning, you would definitely be glad to exploit the free time given. If not, well…you just had to live with it. He’d be blasting with anger if the latter happened and you were late. But then you had the option to bring up his order to relax hours earlier. _Then_ he’d be sputtering in disbelief of how much of a dimwit you were, and reject any kind of report you need him to sign.

In the end you set the clock to ring at eight.

But as it turned out, the professor was surprisingly being genuine for once. Subsequent to a quick wash, you perched tensely next to the nightstand, staring at your PHS half expecting a call or a bang on the door. When the time reached its thirty minute mark past nine and nothing barged in, you had to muffle your gleeful shouts under a pillow. Last night was delightful and the day started most wonderfully. Nothing more you could ever hope for. You sprang up with a bounce to every step, snatching the souvenirs and your camera along the way. Without a care in the world, you stepped out of your room still wearing a pajama, barefoot, excited to meet your young neighbor.

“Sephiroth!” The door banged open under excessive force. You only got to settle a foot inside before two sets of bewildered eyes pinned you in place. Eredith was in the middle of putting her hands around Sephiroth’s waist and the child was holding his arms up. They both paused to ponder on two main things; _first_ , your early arrival, and second, the state of your appearance.

“Is something the matter?” The babysitter asked with worry.

“No, no.” Her gawk made you hyper aware of the slovenly creases on your shirt. As your hand tried uselessly to fix it, you started explaining in hopes of distracting the attention from your clothes. “I, uh, um…. I bought some things for Seph, a-and for you, of course. Happy new year!”

In an attempt to put credibility into your words, you yanked out a turtle shaped pendant, embellished with green and white crystals. “You can use it as a keychain or a necklace. Or if that’s not really your thing maybe you can just display it in your room. O-or give it to someone, probably?”

The babysitter looked at the little trinket in your hand. For a second there, you suspected she would reject the offering like Hojo did, but she accepted it with a warm smile. “Thank you. I’m really sorry, I have not prepared anything to exchange gifts.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand dismissively, “I just love new-year giveaways.”

“Why _Nomen_ give things?” Sephiroth chimed in from inside his crib.

“'Cause new-year is fun, Seph!” You nodded enthusiastically before faking a cough, trying and failing again to control your excitement. “I mean, it’s supposed to be.” Your answer only served to confuse him more. Fortunately, the babysitter saved you from having to explain further.

“This is really beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“Below sector 5.”

“ _You_ go underplate?”

“Uhm…yeah?” Her disbelieving tone made you unsure. “They have this year-end festival I go to every time. Never been disappointed even once.”

“I know.”

It was your turn to tilt your head. “You knew?”

Eredith threw you another bewildered look, she then realized the implications behind her words. “Oh, no! Not like that! I mean I _know_ about that festival.” Her hands waved frantically, “I used to go there, too.”

“Really? Oh, wow! Had I known, I would’ve asked you to come with me. It was kind of sad to go there all on my own, haha.”

“Seph wanna go too!” The infant between you shouted his displeasure at being forgotten even momentarily. His hands were gripping the crib with fervor as if trying to destroy the barrier between him and the rest of the world. The pair of jade colored irises bore down on yours.

“Sephiroth can go when he’s older.” Eredith answered solemnly.

“I am old!”

Both you and his caretaker couldn’t help but snigger. She tried to make the child understand, “You are only 2 years old, aren't you? That still counts as being a baby.”

Bad choice, it turned out. Sephiroth growled in his crib. If an infant were to look cute with murderous intent, he surely fitted the description. He pushed himself from the railing to plop down onto his bum. The baby was beyond pissed, mouth downturned and eyes raging. A stillness brought everyone into silence before he exploded in a deranged wail.

“Oh- Um!” Your head turned right and left, trying to find something to distract the boy.

Eredith was on him in a second, she attempted to soothe the cries with words of comfort, but he slapped her hands away. “Edith‘s mean! Go ‘way!”

You finally fished a treat from the bottom of your bag, “Look what I have!” A neatly wrapped block of chocolate you randomly bought succeeded in rousing his interest. His wails turned to small sobs as he saw the confectionery waved at him. “It’s mint chocolate. I bet you’ve never tasted one, huh?”

The boy analyzed your gift with suspicion. He was desperately wanting to prove a point by staying mad, but the more you waved it, the more his resolve crumbled. He surrendered easily, reaching out to get the block out of your grasp, oblivious to both you and his caretaker’s sigh of relief.

“Don’t eat too many sweets,” she reminded him.

Sephiroth cradled the chocolate to protect it from her view. “Edith, go! I’m mad at Edith.”

“Why?”

“Edith don’t want Seph to have fun! Go!”

Said woman made a mock gesture of being scandalized. She shook her head and exhaled comically, “Edith will go, then, while Seph have some _fun_.”

The infant was still glaring at her when she walked away. You watched their interaction in bemuse. Admittedly, the ‘Eredith’ you pictured in mind at the beginning served this real one no justice. She had been much more aloof and guarded. You weren’t exactly sure when things began to change. In the span of two months the woman was becoming more at ease showing this side of herself.

“ _Nomen_!!!”

The infant’s call of your name snapped your head back to the present. “Yes??”

“Open for me.” The block of chocolate you gave him had been poorly torn on some sides, an evidence of his failure to unwrap the sheet.

It took seconds to divert back from your disquietude. Once you registered the state of disarray the presented item was in, you inadvertently snorted. “Give it here.”

You tore the packaging with deft fingers. Sephiroth’s face darkened to see it opened with barely any effort. When you gave the block of sugar back to him, he was glaring at you as he snatched it away.

“Wow. Rude.”

“Hmph!”

“I could use some ‘thanks’.”

The baby already had one big chunk in his mouth. He paused to make room for a speech, “’ank ‘ou!”

“You’re welcome.” He certainly didn’t sound at all polite, but you indulged him none-the-less. “How is it? Yummy?”

The bulging cheeks and smeared face was answer enough without him having to nod. He was so occupied with eating that you had some time to arrange a comfortable space on the floor. All of the souvenirs were laid out around a circle to allow better display.

“Seph, do you want to see what I bought?”

His little eyes peered from between the railings, mouth still busy munching on the treat. “More chocolate?”

“Haha. Sadly, no.” You stood to lift him up, careful to avoid the messy smear of chocolate on his face. He was as heavy as the first time you tried to lift him, if not more. The weight boring down your arms caused them to tremble for a second. You hurried to put him on the floor. “Seph is a big boy, right? See what’s over there.”

The infant waddled with half-eaten block of chocolate still in hand. He stood inside the circle of trinkets you made, absorbed at the sight peculiar yet beautiful objects around him. One in particular looked somewhat familiar. “Chochobo?”

You approached to sit next to him. “No, that’s called an ostrich.”

He observed the attributes to discover their differences and soon considered its neck and legs rather gangly. “Ostrich is thin….”

“Well, yeah, compared to chocobos, they are much slimmer.”

Sephiroth made a disgruntled noise before taking another bite. “I ‘ike chochobos be’er.” You were going to tell him he ought to choke like that, but he suddenly got up, looking around. “’ickle?”

What he sought was left behind in the crib. He waddled back to get it. Though when he noticed how dirty his hands were, he refrained from getting the toy. The smear of chocolate on his hands caught the young boy’s attention, he looked at them quietly. You thought he was going through some inner crisis from how long he stood there unblinking.

“Seph?”

He suddenly turned to you with a frown. “When is the test?”

Ah, you hadn’t told him yet. “Actually-”

"Seph must shower first.” The boy said as he looked down at his filthy shirt and sighed with the drama of a grandma. Before you could tell him about today’s good news, he already rushed to the bathroom. You got up to follow him. The child put his leftover food next to the sink and grabbed the end of his clothes. He struggled to pull the collar off. You cackled heartily as he gave up and came to you with fabric dangling off his head.

Still laughing, you crouched to level him. “Seph, hear me out, okay?” You couldn’t see his expression behind the fabric, but since he was still, you continued to reveal the good news of the day. “Today is a holiday. I won’t examine you.”

“Holiday?”

“Yes. We’ll just have fun today.”

He scrambled to pull the shirt off his oversized head. You finally took pity and swatted his hands away, undoing the last button before freeing the child.

“Then I don’t have to shower!”

“No!” Your expression turned to mock disgust. “Shower first, have fun later!”

Despite seemingly opposed, the boy acquiesced when you ushered him to the booth. The frown stayed on his face for a while. He questioned the logic behind having to shower if they were going to have ‘fun’. It was unknown where he got the idea of fun equals getting dirty. Maybe one of the childrens books you narrated had something to do with it. A picture book titled Corlene’s Magic Wand had a story of a girl catching mudfish with a stick. It was _fun_. You supposed the boy made the connection from that reference.

“Why is today a holiday?” He asked you while you scrubbed bubbles on his back.

“It’s New Years.”

“What fun are we gonna do?”

You put a finger on your chin as a gesture of pondering. “We’ll see.”

The shower finished with the infant coming out in a bundle of towels. He ran out to the bedroom and fetched his own clothes. After conquering the challenges of putting on pyjamas without help, he reentered the circle with you already cross-legged inside. You were busy going through last night’s photographs. The boy joined by climbing into your lap to ogle at them. Various shades of colors were the first thing he noticed, among other things. People of different backgrounds filling the frames with their smiles looked strange when seen through his eyes. His brain processed the never before seen images with full capacity, stopping on one photograph or the other to question things he couldn’t comprehend. He prevented you from skipping to the next picture at one that captured a set of firework-mimicking lights.

“What’s that?”

You zoomed in on the photograph. “They’re fake fireworks.”

The boy snatched the device from your hand to look at it better. He observed for a long time, examining every glimmer of color each light created. “Why are they fake?”

“Because real fireworks shoot up into the sky and explode. These ones don’t shoot up the sky. They’re made of blinking lights that were made to look beautiful like the real one.”

Sephiroth craned his neck to look at you. With a determined face, he said, “Seph will see real ones!”

“Yeah? Maybe once you’re old enough.”

The child pouted at you. He stomped a foot against your shin, causing you to jerk in surprise. “I am old!”

He threw unceasing questions one after another. Rare was now the gibberish identical to a two and something year old. His knowledge was growing and you found yourself receiving the brunt end of it. You’d be occupied trying to give comprehensible explanations on things a grade schooler normally asked. Especially today, when face to face with new stimuli, his mind absorbed every piece of information like a sponge. He’d pry to the end until a satisfying answer was given. The simple act of going through photographs ended up taking hours before he finally lost interest. By the end, your jaws were already straining from overuse.

You spent the rest of the day doing practically anything the child wanted. He lazed around akin to a king while you scurried here and there, getting books, toys, and more food you happened to have in store. The two of you laid side by side on the floor while you read him the newest books from your collection. Sometime during the long hours, the flail of his limbs scattered the trinkets. The boy claimed some that piqued his interest. One of them was your rejected offering to Hojo. You gladly let him take the objects for free and helped him store it under the mattress of his crib. “To hide from father,” he’d said conspiratorially. He was enjoying this so called holiday very much, you were sure he’d managed to interpret a whole new meaning of fun by the end of it.

When Eredith came to check on him at night, he was already tucked sleepily under the blankets. You had washed him and brushed his teeth after he ate the last half of that mint chocolate. Pickle was hugged tightly in his arms, as his eyes fluttered between opening and closing. He was clearly running out of his last reserves of energy. Just a little nudge, and he was off to sleep. You dimmed the lights in the room before addressing the babysitter with a nod, inviting her to a conversation outside.

“He stores trinkets under the mattress. I thought I'd better let you know.”

Eredith snorted with amusement, “He always stores things under the bed. Hojo’s too afraid to touch anything his son has ever peed on.”

You couldn’t believe she just said that. The laughter that followed was loud, but you quickly turned it down in fear of waking Sephiroth.

“Happy new year, _Nomen_.”

To hear the well-wishing spoken by someone else towards you was rather stunning. You had been so busy saying it to everyone that you forgot, nobody had actually said it back, until now. A warm feeling spread in your chest. You muttered your gratitude as she bade you good night. It took a while for you to wipe the dumb smile off of your face. The small act Eredith did completed today’s humble celebration. You expected nothing extravagant, in fact, you hadn’t expected anything at all. Yet when someone finally acknowledged your effort, you knew you couldn’t be happier.

You walked back into your room with the same bounce as when you left it. The mood was so blissful that you felt like you could do anything right now. Not even the gray walls nor absence of sky to look at could deter your spirits. You hummed a tone to channel all the energy, taking a random book out of its shelf and began to read. It was only about halfway through the first chapter you realized, with this amount of giddiness, you wouldn’t be able to stay still at all. It was an opportunity that you’d prefer to not waste. Dumping the book back where it came from, you put on a lab coat and a pair of slippers. Your unfinished research in the labs could use some progress right now.

Heading to where your specimens laid in wait, with an overload of serotonin in your brain, you struggled to ignore the eerie silence of the floor. There were doors left and right you had yet opened. You passed by them in haste despite knowing they were locked. The way to your destination was winding across the facility. At this time of night, no unauthorized personnel would be allowed in, meaning, no one else but you or Hojo could enter, assuming the other was here. If anything were to escape and hunt you down, there would be no one to turn to. You’d be dead and your corpse wouldn’t be found until the janitor tasked with the area came.

You quickly exorcised the sinister thought.

The day had been a wonderful one. You refused to ruin it by nursing an unreasonable fear. Thus you kept walking until the door of the bio lab was reached without any problem. You switched the lights on upon entry. The section holding your research laid at the far end. It was a strategic spot, you claimed from the first time. 

Located at a distance from the door, the area was isolated yet still provided an unobstructed view of the entire space. It gave you no greater comfort than to know exactly what or who went through the entrance. You sat down facing the room, getting to work on a report.

Three hare specimens you injected with a mako-based solution yielded desirable outcomes while two failed. The successful ones had successfully regenerated independently. A wound you’d purposefully created on had disappeared without a trace. The only visible change they showed was in their eye color. They were glowing mako-green. Documents were slowly filled one by one as you took note of the results. The constant ticking of a clock accompanied the sound of pen scribbling on paper as the night went on.

Minutes turned into hours seemingly in the blink of an eye. You were in the middle of injecting a third type of solution when a yawn escaped your lips. The sound of joints snapping as you stretched hinted tiredness. The time showed three hours after midnight. No wonder your lids felt heavy. You finished the remaining injections before deciding to call it a night. The lab protocol required all occupants to reorganize their workspace after use, all equipment must be back to where they were previously stored after cleaned under running water. When the last of the syringes had been washed, dried, and stored away, your responsibilities were complete. You turned the light off, fighting another yawn.

The aisles’ silence affected you less the more exhaustion creeped in. You were absently walking through the facility, barely able to keep yourself awake. Your mind began a desperate explanation on why the floor was not a good place to sleep. The possibility of an escaped specimen was one of them, but a particularly horrifying one with Hojo finding your pathetic ass, snoring on the floor and late to work was what motivated you to sleep on a proper bed. In a haze between slumber and consciousness, you were not at all expecting a sound to come from somewhere near. You jerked awake fully, finding this time, you knew exactly whom it belonged to.

“This project is still running, full speed! You have no right to freeze it, you imbecile!”

Hojo’s voice was muffled from beyond a door. You peeked through its creak, seeing your mentor hunched on above a desk, hand fisted tight.

“ _I_ hold the future of this mission in my hands, not you, half-assed dimwit!”

There was a pause, someone on the other end was speaking loudly, but you didn’t catch what was said. Hojo punched the desk. The loud bang caused you to flinch.

“Pillock!” The call was ended with his insult. The professor dropped down on his chair and leaned back, taking his glasses off.

You kept watching in silence. The sight of your mentor getting so frustrated made you hesitate between itching to know what happened and wanting to turn a blind eye at the same time. Which one would be well received, you didn’t know. You were slowly retreating into the shadows when the man called you.

“ _Nomen_.”

Your head jerked to attention. “Professor?”

To see Hojo’s bare eyes was a rarity in itself, but to witness any kind of emotion behind the black irises was quite jarring. He glowered at your presence. You swallowed thickly, still caught between going forward and the opposite.

“Did you enjoy your holiday, _Nomen_?" The man’s voice was laced with bitterness. He looked so exhausted, like a never ending wakefulness was keeping all the rest away from him. You reflected on how you had chosen to spend the day having fun, and instantly felt guilty.

“Can I assist you with anything, sir?”

Hojo let out a long sigh. “Sit here with me, child.”

His order didn’t surprise you as much as the dejection in his voice. You slowly entered the room to sit on the only other chair still unoccupied. For a long while, the man didn’t say anything else. You fidgeted in your chair, still unsure, yet braving to ask a question. “Who was that on the phone?”

The professor straightened up in his seat, both arms falling on the armrest. “The imbecile.”

In the span of your career, you had known the many colors one insult could take. Hojo had said it to address countless people, you included, but for him to spit it with such vehemence could only refer to one person.

“Why?”

“He’s planning to put a stop on my project.” He stared at you, taking notice of the lack of propriety in your attire and shot a look of disapproval. You had forgotten the PJs and slippers entirely in favor of the situation. It was a miracle the professor chose not to address it, probably because the existence of a lab coat meant you’d somewhat heeded the protocol.

“Your…project?”

“Project-S.”

Your eyes widened. No way. “O-on what account, sir? Surely he isn’t planning to…?” To freeze a project would lead to the confiscation of its related properties, including specimens, which in this case meant only one.

Sephiroth.

“He’s a sniveling coward, that’s what he is.” Hojo stood up and began to pace around.

Caught in a wave of turbulent emotions, you struggled to process the weight of this information. Everybody knew the Division Head and your mentor had never been on the best of terms. You were always a witness, watching from the sidelines while they head-butted one another. But now that you were closer, much closer than ever to see the potential damage of their dispute, you felt inclined to prevent it from happening.

“He thinks by eliminating my work the President would finally see his! He can’t even synthesize two reactants properly, that imbecile!”

“This isn’t fair, professor! Can’t we report him?”

“Report?” Hojo snorted incredulously. “On what account, _Nomen_? Suspension is a Division Head’s authority!”

You shook your head. “There must be a way! Hollander mustn't do this!”

“Yes! The only thing he must do is shove his failures up his arse!”

Hearing the man rant, a preposterous idea began to form at the back of your mind. It betrayed everything that you had learned as an academic and could potentially be disastrous to your career. 

Just thinking about it tempted you to shrink in cowardice, safe behind the shield of ignorance. But then, the image of a boy who’d looked at you with a set of determined eyes showed up.

_“Seph will see real ones!”_

In an instant, your hesitation vanished.

“Professor….”

“As soon as I become the head of this division, he’ll see what hell I will put him through!”

“Uh- Professor?”

“What, _Nomen_?!” Hojo yelled his annoyance at being interjected.

“S-sorry, sir.” You held your palms up in apology, “Just letting you know, I have an idea.”

* * *

The walk back to your room felt weightless as if you floated all the way. Your tiredness was no longer as pressing. The sound of your own footsteps echoed emptily. As you entered the haven of your own room, you chose to stay in the dark. Staring into nothing, you contemplated the words exchanged between you and your mentor.

 _“You are crazy,_ Nomen _.”_

_You shook your head, “I’m sure you didn’t agree to mentor me because I make fertilizers out of zolom dung, professor. You knew I had it in me.”_

_Hojo stared at you incredulously. He drummed his fingers on the wood of the desk. “I know.”_

_“Then, let us do it!”_

_The man wasn’t quick to make a decision. He deduced your intentions, still vacillating between yes and no. “If,” he started, “Say, we do this, and you failed. You know what consequences would await us, don’t you? For both of us?”_

_You slumped slightly. The risks were indeed great. “I know, sir.”_

_The way Hojo fell back into silence made your patience run thin. Your voice rose unintentionally, irritation evident. “If we do nothing, you and I are bound to fail also! Think about your son!”_

_The pressure of having to make a call before it was too late gave him a resolute answer. He and you exchanged the same look of frustration. “Let’s not fail, then.”_

_The firm nod you gave him masked a brewing nervousness inside. You left the room with a single goal already planted. Both you and the professor were hell-bent on making sure it would bear fruit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)))))))
> 
> If you have a suggestion for the next character art, I'm open to it.


	3. A Change of Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan? What plan? Duh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo :)
> 
> This chapter has been proofread by Whovianbi___girl, so thanks much for the huge help :D She writes too, please check it out!
> 
> Thanks thanks much for reading this story!
> 
> The pace has quickened abruptly, but trust me, it'll lead to something that builds up the reader's importance later. There's a canon character that's going to show up in this chapter, but his name is yet revealed. Make a guess :D
> 
> By the way, I'm posting the latest fan art on my Tumblr here: https://e-aramis.tumblr.com/post/622384480201637888/another-wittle-sephy-and-his-pickle-d-and-oh 
> 
> It's Edith and Seph and a glimpse of his beloved Pickle. I'm sorry, though, I can only post W.I.P. for now since I'm not sure I can update this week if I have to finish it first. Once I get the chance to do so, I'll upload it on my account right away.
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistake that you'll probably find while reading, pls remind me if you see some.
> 
> Godspeed and the best to you all :D

Mother had once said to you whilst she laid helpless on her deathbed, _“Don’t let yourself be held back by anything, love. You were brought into this world to fulfill a purpose nobody else could. The Goddess has woven a thread of destiny, unique to each and every being on the Planet. I am worn. My duty is done. The end of my path is here before us, and I will pass on. You, on the other hand, is a youngling barely learning to walk with her own two feet. Don’t let this hold you back. I am nothing but just a passing. There are a lot more to seek than my hearth and my home. Go to where your dreams may come true and don’t give up, only then, your purpose may be fulfilled.”_

The words of someone who’d come to the end of life was, least to say, changing. Your mother had been tough as nails and rarely spoke of wisdom during her life. She lived with liberty, nonchalant to any ill-fate she encountered, and gave love passionately to others. You saw her more as a woman of action rather than words. She loathed wasting her breath trying to explain something her child was too naïve to understand. Every important lesson she taught you came from her evaluation of your mistakes, not spoken profoundly beforehand. She was a whole different kind of sage when it came to teaching.

It felt weird to hear her last words uttered with bated breaths. Just like how she had lived, you expected a more sublime episode of her passing. That didn’t happen, though. She passed away like any other elder – weak and longing, for a life they no longer had, or for a new life they couldn’t wait to start on the other side. The sadness was ephemeral. Her attitude of nonchalance had passed on in some ways to you, steeling your heart against the loss. Two days after the funeral, you embarked on a journey with nobody’s blessing but your own. The long and trying path had led you to Midgar with hope. Years of hardship soon consumed you to the point where you forgot that last bit of wisdom she’d shared. It rarely, if it even did, showed up in your mind.

Like today. At this pivotal moment of a venturesome decision, when you felt the tug of hesitation tempting you to abort, her words came to haunt you.

The Goddess has a purpose. For you, for all.

That’s what you kept repeating in mind as you stood, mouth agape, staring at the mess that resulted inside an observation chamber. The only thing keeping you from joining your late mother was a protective glass between you and an explosion. It shook with utmost intensity that you thought it would break for a second. Luckily, Shinra always prepared the best appliances to anticipate these kinds of accidents. Whatever you had put inside prior was now shattered to unmalleable pieces.

Hojo dashed to check on you moments after the blast died down. You nodded absently to assure him of your condition. “I’m okay, sir. That thing, though… _wow_.”

The professor took his place next to you, observing the remnants of disaster behind glass. He was deep in thought, trying to retrace exactly where the both of you had gone wrong.

“This is really similar to how alkali metals react in exposure to water,” you filled the blanks. “Never thought those compounds hate each other so much.”

Your commentary got a sharp piercing glare in return. “Take note of this, would you?”

Clearing your throat, you shambled to get a clipboard before writing the product of this failed experiment. Hojo was already nose deep into previous research entries when you finished. He scanned various references with acute eyes, leaving you to clean up the chamber on your own.

“We should have purified the reagent first, it shouldn’t be so reactive after.”

Hojo’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “That would take about a week, sir.”

There was no response. Your mentor was still hunched above stacks of documents with his back toward you. His hands were busy flipping pages in search for another solution. Knowing you’d be ignored for at least half of an hour, you proceeded to finish your job. The sound of broken glass and paper rustling accompanied the two of you until Hojo gave up. He exhaled a long sigh, leaning against the table with arms crossed, again, deep in thought.

“How long do we have left?” The man asked you.

“Um…. About twenty more days until the proposal is finalized.”

“That means less than two weeks until that imbecile is able to file a review.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hojo took his glasses off, massaging his eyes with bony fingers.

“We’d still have two to three days left. Assuming Hollander does nothing prior to that deadline, I think we can try, sir. Though I’d say, yes, it’s quite risky.” You quieted for a moment, pondering other means to deliver the mission. “Maybe we should try another-”

“No, _Nomen_.” Hojo interjected. “Unless his project just evaporates, there’s no other way to stop him.”

The atmosphere turned somber. With every passing second, it felt as if the key to this problem was only slipping further away. You stared coldly at the pieces of broken glass like they had stolen a prize right from under your nose.

“I’ll start over right now, then,” you said, forcing your limbs to prepare the necessary ingredients. A new Erlenmeyer flask had replaced its broken counterpart. Hojo came to supervise the second attempt while you mixed compounds methodically, careful not to miss anything. Two long hours passed in mostly silence. Both you and the professor anxiously lie in wait. When the final process made the compound available, you set up the purifying process by adding solvent to the composition, setting up a heater to last for 168 hours.

And that was it. There wasn’t much left to be done but wait in the span of seven days. You retrieved the equipment to begin cleaning. It was only when you reached an open cabinet did you remember something important you’d almost missed.

“Professor.” Hojo, like he oftentimes did, ignored you in favor of writing entries in his journal. You carried on nevertheless. “Sir, we’ve no mythril left in stock.”

Hojo immediately paused. He walked next to you to check with his own eyes. Finding emptiness in the rack, he clenched his jaw. “We have two days until the compound needs to be refilled.” He looked at you, intention obvious behind the flash of his spectacles.

You returned the gaze with a hint of apprehension. “We can’t request it from the Division, they’ll notice we’re up to something.”

“Of course, you stupid brat!” Hojo threw his hands exasperatedly. “There’s only one other place in Midgar to get it unseen!”

Indeed, you already knew the answer. But the idea of having to make another visit made you shift uncomfortably on your feet. There was a place you’d gone to once. It didn’t leave quite the pleasant impression.

“I-I have to…?”

“Yes.”

You swallowed thickly. Only thinking about it was enough to make a bead of sweat to roll off your back. Yet you had no choice. The professor was definitely out of the question. He’d be recognized the moment he stepped foot in the area, it was swarmed with Turks the last time you went. Albeit most of them were drunk, no one should take any chances with Shinra’s special operatives.

“Use something to cover your head and you’ll be fine.” Hojo said after analyzing your appearance from head to toe. He put a hand over your hair and turned your head around. “Yes, yes. Definitely fine.”

Ticked by the dismissal in his voice, deep inside you screamed, _“That still doesn’t eliminate the possibility of me getting caught, Sir!”_ Though the words never made it past your mouth. Hojo would just metaphorically slap the fuss out of you.

In the end, deciding that thinking too much into it would stress you out further, you agreed reluctantly. The professor made you promise to obtain the metal as soon as you were able to. The only thing he provided as a means of protection was a taser. He’d said it would shock the hell out of people they wouldn’t remember anything prior to getting tased. You were unconvinced, to say the least, but it was better than marching to battle unarmed. So you let it slide.

What you couldn’t let slide, though, was that by saying ‘as soon as you were able to’, your mentor had actually meant _tonight_.

He kicked you out of the lab as soon as you started to protest. After the whole ordeal of having to come to term with your nearest objective, you managed to drag your feet away with his gift in hand. On your way back to the safety of your room, stressed and in dire need of relief, you suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to visit your young neighbor. You veered from an entrance to the next one, unlocking the door before quietly entering.

Ever since you found its occupant much more tolerable than his father ever will be, the room served as a heavenly escapade amidst your daily challenges of work. Here you didn’t have to worry about having to cater to Hojo’s every word or be the perfect employee under Shinra’s chain of command. Here you could just enjoy the dimmed light and pastel colored objects, the scattered toys and books all over the place. All you intended to do was to watch your little neighbor dozing peacefully in his crib. You sat cross-legged in front of him, nothing between you aside from an array of wooden railings. The beat of your heart followed the soft rise and fall of his chest.

You could definitely do this for a lifetime. The scent of innocence filled your nostrils as you came closer to stroke his puffy cheeks. Sephiroth looked pouty even in his sleep, you smiled at the thought. How a being so precious could be trapped in this current circumstance was an injustice you’d never cease to question. The small fingers circling around your pointer caused a wholly different kind of explosion to rupture your insides. His adorableness was bordering on being overwhelming. If the boy didn’t let go anytime soon, you wouldn’t be able to hold back a shriek. Unfortunately, instead of loosening the grip, he sought your warmth by curling himself around the entirety of your arm. A choked sound instantaneously escaped your lips. You clasped a hand on your mouth in reflex, but the damage had already been done. The little boy was waking up. His eyelashes fluttered open, revealing a pair of jade irises you’d come to cherish.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, “Just go back to sleep, Seph.”

Contrary to your wish, his eyes opened even wider, fully awake now. He processed the sight of you perched right outside of his crib. Probably wondering what caused you to grimace sheepishly. “Why’s _Nomen_ ‘ere?”

“Um….” You tried to pull your hand out of his grip.

“Mmm, noo….” To your surprise, he tightened his hold, refusing to let go. So you surrendered that limb despite the awkward position.

“I just wanted to check on you. It’s not time to wake up yet.”

His fingers fiddled with yours. The plump of his cheek brushed soft as he yawned sleepily. “ _Nomen_ stay here.”

Your insides were already turned to mush at this point. Bursts of explosion positively rendered you helpless. This sleepy baby was too wholesome a sight to handle. He didn’t even bother to wait for an answer. Right after he muttered the order, he dived right back to oblivion, assuming you would indulge him like you always did. You had to wedge a thumb painfully between your teeth to prevent another shriek. Only daring to let go when the rampaging butterflies in your stomach had died down.

The room turned quiet once again. Your forehead rested against the railings to get a better view of the sleeping angel. His tight embrace around your arm a reminder of the unadulterated trust he had, and it immediately grounded you. As you allowed your eyes to flutter close, a renewed determination arose in your mind.

Slowly as not to disrupt his rest, you pulled your arm away from him, replacing it with his favored Pickle. He grasped the toy with equal fervor. You had never known how your mother felt when she chose to raise you against all odds. But staring at the sleeping angel right before you, you could probably understand the motivation behind her tenacity, because the only thing to keep you moving forward as you trudged under the cover of shadows was an image of said being tucked safely beneath the blankets.

White lab coat had been casted aside in favor of a black sweatshirt. You hiked the hood to cover your entire head, a cap to provide more coverage also worn beneath. The presence of a mask would rouse unnecessary suspicion, thus you opted to forfeit it altogether, carefully lowering your head as you sneaked. The journey underplate to Sector Six had to be done by leaving the Tower through Sector Five’s exit. You veered away from the main entrance and used the one reserved for garbage trucks instead. No guard would watch you leave this way. Relying on the cover of the massive vehicles, it was easy for you to creep stealthily. Once you had stepped out of the facility, you dashed to where the Downtown MMTS station was, boarding the first train to hail its passenger to Sector Six.

The train was quite empty this late at night. You sat on the seat nearest the door, lowering your head each time a passenger passed by. It was a good thing everybody seemed to mind their own business. The taser in your pocket was yet needed. Four stations later, you got off right on Sector Six’s Works Access. There, southeast from the station was an unguarded underplate access in the middle of the Sector’s construction area. Already hidden from view by incomplete steel foundations, was a winding descent down, into the glamorous lair of Don Corneo’s Wall Market.

You took a deep breath.

“You can do this, you can, you can,” those words you kept chanting like a spell. As you carried yourself down the steps, the first thing to notice right away was the glimmering neon of Midgar slum’s red light district. Then there was the music. The area was crowded with anyone who sought intriguing ways of passing the lonely nights. If not haunted by the fear of getting caught, coming here could be thrilling per se. You just had to carefully dodge around the wrong places to avoid last time’s unpleasantry.

That’s what you tried telling yourself. But you forgot one crucial fact. Barely ten steps out of the stairway, you were forced to take an abrupt refuge in an unlit alley. This place was still _swarmed_ with Turks, and you meant it. If Shinra recruited more personnel within the years, it only made sense how they seemed to have doubled in number. All of them came down here with the same purpose: to play hard.

The iconic black & white unisex attire was everywhere to be seen. You assessed the situation from the cover of darkness. Most of the Turks weren’t even half sober, prostitutes of all kinds clung to their arms, acting out any fantasies required to wring their customers dry. The ones who couldn’t even walk straight to save a life, you categorized them as less threatening. What bothered you more were those who came down without any intention of getting laid. They’d just linger at the bars to socialize, and that meant, they were more than half sober to potentially recognize your face, assuming they’d seen your profile under Hojo’s employment.

Then again, you can’t keep hiding until morning. If you stayed to the sidelines, putting as much distance as possible, you had a chance of moving unnoticed. There were some slum dwellers too. Blending in could be an option. The place you intended to visit was not that far away, just a little bit outside of the love industry area. You looked around to find the best course of action, when a crowd of people happened to pass by, you swiftly joined them. Not a single Turk casted a glance at you inside the barrier of the herd. The rest of the people went right at an intersection. You had to separate yourself, ignoring the urge to just run lest it look suspicious.

Walking as casual as you could achieve with the stiffness of your body, you made sure your cap was worn low to cover at least half of your face. You scanned the rickety buildings one by one as you passed. The destination was located at the end of the block where lightings were dim. At this part of town, there were barely any Turks around. They usually had no business with the shabby dealers unless Shinra had something up his sleeve. Corneo’s lackeys would make sure the megacorp wouldn’t nose around his territory. Everybody knew, despite legally the Wall Market being an area below Sector Six, it wasn’t Shinra’s, but the Don’s law that was being run down here. If one planned to have a business with him, it was safe to say that what happened in Wall Market, _stayed_ in Wall Market. You were protected by the anonymity of a buyer, a law Corneo ensured to shield his patron from inspection.

There was only one problem left.

And quite the bad luck for you, it was Corneo himself.

As you arrived at the destined building, you could only hope that the man wouldn’t be inside. The front door opened and the bell chimed. You stepped in, immediately probed by at least five pairs of eyes. You scanned them one by one. None of them you’d ever met before but the clerk. The store still employed the same man. You remembered him, it was best to pray he wouldn’t remember you.

Your heart beat louder. In the stillness of the shop, you wondered if any of them could hear it too.

“On whose business did ya come?” the clerk inquired when you’d finally come to the counter.

Trying your best to not avoid eye-contact, you answered curtly, “Rat’s.”

For a second you feared the code might have changed without you knowing. The clerk showed no reaction to you, he stared you down with inquisitive eyes. You felt your throat going dry.

“What does a rat want?”

His question caused you to beam internally. You hadn’t said the wrong word. “Mythril, please.”

Some amused snickers could be heard around the room. The clerk, too, had a crooked smile of his own. Only then did you realize you’d used ‘please’ out of habit. Nobody cared about such etiquette here.

One mistake already made. You tightened your palm inside your pockets, waiting stiffly as the man went inside to retrieve the item.

“First time goin’ down ‘ere, pretty?” One of the men had approached unnoticed. You peered at him from below your cap, catching a glance at his grinning face. You lowered your hat even more.

“Oh, come on, don’t cover up, love.” The man lifted his hand to remove your hood, but you slapped his hand away before he could.

“Mind your own business.” You almost barked at him for getting too close.

To your dismay, the rejection only seemed to spur him on. He laughed at you while making a fan with his hand. “Whoo! Fiery!” The rest of the men were starting to get intrigued as well. They moved closer, beginning to form a circle around you.

You took a step away and looked around, slightly panicked to find the curious stares. They hadn’t completely blocked your way out, but if the clerk didn’t come soon, you’d be trapped.

Fortunately the Gods were on your side tonight. What item you’d requested for was brought out at the right time. The clerk revealed a bag full of mythril. Without further ado, you dumped a load of gil at the counter and snatched the pouch away, hoping to leave before the situation went further downhill.

“Ey, lady.” A call from the clerk stopped you dead in your tracks. You didn’t dare to look back. “You’re one gil short.”

Clenching your jaw to prevent a curse, you turned around to return to the counter. The men previously circling you were, again, sniggering in amusement. You ignored them for the sake of your sanity. Fishing out a coin you luckily had, you half dropped it, half threw it to the clerk’s awaiting hand. He lifted a brow at your handless demeanor, checking the coin to see if you tried to scam him.

You waited again.

When he finally nodded his head and waved his hand, you exhaled a breath of relief. The business was done. The hardest part of this trip had passed. You turned to leave the store, happy to feel the weight of mythril in your hand. The Gods truly favored you tonight, you wondered why. Though as you took a step toward the exit, you were forced to think they deliberately used all your lucky stars in a single take. An impeding hand, totally unprecedented, smacked you in the face. You stumbled back, managing not to fall flat on your butt. The man who’d approached you had dared to lift his hand. You growled at him for a moment only to realize that both your cap and your hood had been removed.

There was this silent stillness that befell the room. Your expression turned to alarm as his gradually turned to that of reminiscence.

“Wait…,” the hulking presence of the man stepped even closer. You instinctively moved away. “Aren’t you the Don’s…?”

Knowing where the man’s thought process was going had you answering lamely, “No,” and dashing away like a sprinter. Of course they’d scurry after you. Had you used that big brain you supposedly have, this very situation could probably be avoided, but you panicked. This was exactly why you never applied to become a Turk. Despite more than sufficient intelligence, your jumpy nature and dislike for strenuous exercise would probably kill you the moment they sent you on a mission. Sometimes your brain just chose the worst moments to lag.

The chase had you sprinting across dark alleyways. You desperately avoided the main streets in fear of causing a ruckus. To catch the Turks’ attention would be the next worst thing in this situation. At least if you managed to get to the upper plate, these goons wouldn’t dare to pursue you. A familiar fork had you going right. At the end of it would be an alternative way to reach above, but before you could get there, another man who’d joined the chase blocked your path. He charged at you, forcing you to veer off to the wrong course.

You didn’t know where the left road would lead you. The territory became unfamiliar. The men were increasing in both number and proximity, an evidence of your exhaustion slowly catching up. Your breath had turned heavy and your chest painful. You looked around to find a means of escape, going to the first gap you could find. Another shabby building with an open window became your first choice. You hadn’t the time to read the sign before ducking inside, stumbling to a wall upon entry. The small gap would slow the men down. With the barrier now posed between you and your pursuer, you continued to flee into the halls.

The building was a typical dimly lit place like any other in the area. You did see a sign at the front, yet you hadn’t an idea of what business might be run inside, nor had you met a single person that could give you a clue. In hesitation you slowed down to assess your surroundings, but a man, the same cursed man who’d taken off your cap, was catching up. You let out a yelp as you dodged his reach, fleeing to nowhere in particular. You saw a stairway leading up and you took it.

“Stop runnin’, baby, I’m comin’!”

The muscles of your legs began to strain. The burn was slowing you down further. Just before you could reach the end of the ascent, the man took a hold of your ankle, causing you to fall face first onto the second floor. You kicked the man’s nose to fend him off, but the attack seemed to barely affect him. You only managed to crawl away for a meter or so until he was suddenly all over you.

“Can’t go anywhere now, bitch, come here!”

His arms locked yours in a deadlock. The bag of mythril was thrown aside amidst your struggle. You tried to send another kick, anywhere, his stomach, his crotch, to no avail as he’d put his weight on your back, robbing you of any leverage. You felt your head pushed to the floor roughly. Any possibility of escape had now vanished. In the man’s hold you could hear rapid footsteps of the rest. Occasionally, you’d try to jerk around, then he’d tighten his grip until it bordered on being painful.

You closed your eyes in surrender. Tears started to gather behind your lids. Who’d have thought the one you should have been worried about wasn’t Shinra’s. Had you known that Corneo’s lackeys still recognized your face, you’d put more effort on disguising your face.

There you were, frozen in helplessness, just waiting for the rest of the men to come and drag you back to their master. The man who held you laughed in glee. He lowered himself to whisper in your ear. You were appalled to feel a growing hardness poking at your thigh.

“The Don’s really lucky tonight, huh?”

The implication of his word caused you to muster what strength you had left and head-butt his nose. He jerked back in pain, “Fuck!”

You expected him to slam your head back onto the floor, already closing your eyes in anticipation. But instead, his weight was suddenly lifted off of you. The man was thrown back to the stairs, barreling his comrades down. Your chest heaved in relief as the chase was suddenly put to a stop. The ones not hit by their falling comrade were staring at you. Well, more likely _behind_ you, where as you followed their line of vision, stood a man with the familiar black and white attire.

A Turk.

Your heart was instantly caught in your throat.

The young man towered over you as he looked at the rest of your pursuer. You’d never seen him nor did you know his reason to be here. The same couldn’t be said about the men below. They visibly hesitated to proceed ascending. You watched the exchange of silent stares between them, wondering what might be going on behind the scene, and was astonished to see your pursuer lift their fallen comrades to leave.

Either you’d come to be saved or fallen into yet another trouble, you hadn’t a clue. You swallowed thickly, eyes still fixed on where the men had been, not daring to look at your savior lest he’d probably recognize you as well.

He was as silent as you were. The sound of his shoes echoed as he moved to get your pouch, opening it for inspection.

“Mythril?” He muttered quietly. “Did you steal it?”

You whipped your head at him, “I bought it!”

Now that his face was revealed in your line of vision, you carefully took note of his features. The young man had dark brown hair with a goatee adorning his chin. A set of intense, equally dark irises stared back. He frowned at you, emphasizing a fresh scar that ran down his left cheek. You could probably begin to understand why your pursuer chose to leave. He was someone clearly should not be messed with. And yet here you were, accepting the pouch given back to you with caution. He then offered a hand you had the gall to slap away.

“Is there somewhere you need to be?”

Hugging the returned item close to your chest, you hiked the hood of your sweatshirt back up, lowering your head despite knowing that the Turk had probably memorized every inch of your face. You opted not to answer him, instinctively taking a step back.

“I’ll take you there.” You were about to refuse the offer, but he held a finger at you, effectively shutting you up. “Those men might still be around to wait for you.”

That reasoning was impossible to deny. You could either risk going alone, treading the unfamiliar territory until you find a way back above, or you could just accept the help. Weighing your options, you were forced to choose the latter once the burn in your muscles began to flare. You’d run out of adrenaline. There was no way you could escape a chase a second time.

“I’m going above.”

The Turk assessed you for another moment. He made no comment and nodded curtly, walking down the stairs without looking back, clearly assuming you’d follow him right away.

“Why bother doing this?”

The man stopped his descent to look back at you. His expression unreadable. “Your deal with Corneo’s lackeys doesn’t concern me, but it was out of the question whether I should come to your aid.”

You frowned and stood still, challenging his seemingly chivalrous ideal. A Turk was still a Turk after all. No one could expect what might be going on inside their heads. They were paid to deal with company secrets and they were damn good at it.

“If you can’t trust me, I’d say the same for you.” He said, noticing the agitation in your pose. “Now, it’s your choice to receive my help or not. I’m going.”

The young man continued to descend, intent on leaving you behind had you not hurried to follow him before he disappeared. You kept a minimum of arm length distance as you walked after him. Once he led you out of the building, you were able to discern the sign at the front side.

Mirabella Inn.

The half flickering neon lights struggled to serve its purpose as an eye-catcher. Another shabby motel for cheap one night stands then. No wonder you didn’t meet anyone inside. The guest must be busy fucking or passed out behind the doors while you were scrambling for life. The irony irritated you.

“Stay close.” You snapped out of your reverie. The men who’d pursued you were, in fact, still lurking around in the shadows, waiting to pounce. A sense of dread froze you in your steps. Your weary muscles twitched with anticipation for another flight.

Then, unexpectedly, an arm was snaked around your waist. You bristled for a second before realizing whom it belonged to. The Turk was looking at you with the same intense dark eyes. You became petrified, unable to do much aside from going wherever he decided to. His hold was loose to allow escape, but tight enough to reassure you of safety. Your pursuer maintained their distance as you passed through unhindered. Miraculously, they seemed to let you go. You casted a glance at them retreating behind your back. Talk about luck.

The Turk kept off the main streets as if he knew your avoidance of it. He kept his arm all the way until the same stair you’d come from was visible. “Will you manage on your own?”

You awkwardly pushed his arm away, “Yes.”

There wasn’t much to be said. He’d helped you out of his own volition. You were allowed to not treat this as a favor. But as you climbed the way up, your conscience metaphorically kicked you.

“Hey!”

The Turk was already on his way, but upon your call, he looked back.

You cleared your throat, preparing to remedy your action by saying, “Thank you.”

He gazed at you with an expression you couldn’t quite comprehend. All you knew was it looked somewhat creepy. You were about to leave without awaiting a response if he chose to keep doing that. And then he smiled, a gorgeously crooked one that was more like a smirk, but a response nonetheless. He lifted two fingers to his temple and bade you hasta la vista.

Your eyes twitched as the sight of him retreated.

What a cocky bastard. You watched him disappear behind a building, hoping that the encounter would be your last. The man showed no sign of ever meeting you before, you saw no recognition whatsoever when he saw your face either. It would be disastrous if Hollander got a word of your peculiar search for mythril in the slums. Research staff could get it easily by filing a request to the reservoir manager, your trip would only lead to one possibility, which was the existence of an illegal operation being underhanded. If by the worst case scenario it happened, then you’d better prepare to find a new job.

As you journeyed back to the tower, it was hard to remain optimistic. The weight of the mythril in your hand seemed to bear down heavier the more you approached Shinra Tower. A fear of getting caught kept you hyper aware of your surroundings. You slinked on the tip of your toes through the same garbage entrance, silently thanking the guards for not choosing to patrol anywhere near the area. The moment you were inside the building, you lowered your hoodie and hid the pouch inside your sweatshirt. Nobody minded you walking casually to the elevator. Only a janitor you’d come to know threw a smile that you returned. Nothing else came across your way down the levels after that.

You were back in the safety of Hojo’s private facility before you knew it. The sound of elevator doors closing left you unbalanced. You leaned back against a wall behind you, sliding down to drop on the floor. Hard to believe what had happened actually happened. Your mission was accomplished, the mythril was secure, and you were back. The part where you were chased and miraculously aided by a Turk would definitely be skipped in your report to the professor. He’d chew you alive knowing someone had witnessed your venture. The sustainability of your career now solely depended on whether your savior would spill the tea or keep his chivalrous ideal intact.

Using the wall behind you as a leverage, you slid back up, steadying yourself. Another long intake of breath and you were once again walking through the familiar halls in the dead of night. The thought of having to search for your mentor didn’t cross your mind. You were tired from all the running and suspense. Report could be done tomorrow, after a nice rest. So you automatically headed to the lab where the mythril would be stored safely. You weren’t compelled to turn the lights on, just wanting to hurry up and enter the comfort of your own room.

* * *

Lilies.

As far as the eye can see, there were lilies.

They were blown softly by the wind. Their delicate white crowns mirrored the blaze of a sun. As you woke up, dazed and entranced, you had to shield your eyes lest the brightness blinded you. The breeze brought upon you a gentle scent, teasing, inciting an urge to rise and start a search for its owner. But there were only flowers all around. The meadow was infinite in both grandness and beauty. It resembled an endless field of snow, naked below ray lights of the sun. Yet despite the absence of a shade, the shine didn’t burn your skin, it was pleasantly warm just like the glowing embers of your mother’s hearth in the dead of night.

You stood barefooted. Your toes dug into the dirt below, caressing the roughness of the earth’s crust. What scent you previously sensed got stronger with every passing second. It lulled you to close your eyes, to walk without a direction across the blooming meadow. The first step you took was heavy like the ground itself refused to let go. It got gradually lighter the more you forced yourself to leave, until at one point, every inch of your body felt lighter than a feather. Soon you were floating through the air.

Surrendering to the nomadic wind, it carried you somewhere far away for long days and nights. Arrays of sensations touched your skin or whispered to you. None of their words made sense. They were too swift, gone before you could comprehend a single syllable. The only thing to anchor your mind was that scent whose owner you still hadn’t found. But you trusted the invisible force to carry you where they must be existing.

One day the journey ended with you returning to the ground. You opened your eyes to the sight of more lilies, endlessly blooming on a field. The blazing sun had retreated to be replaced by a moon. Its silvery luster was reflected by the flowers’ petals. You came down to admire the glimmering whites, only to be interrupted by heavy footsteps treading closer. To your right, parting the sea of flowers with ease, were two long legs with stout talons on each end. The head of a chocobo swayed in tandem with every step to you.

You quickly rose to your full height. The scent you’d been looking for was getting even stronger. When the bird got much closer, you knew you’d finally found him.

“Seph?” The boy was astride bareback. He clutched the feather of his ride as it walked to stop right next to you. “When did Pickle grow so big?”

A squawk from the bird had you jerking in surprise. You laughed heartily, caressing Pickle’s long neck as it nudged its beak against you. Then a thought suddenly came to mind. You looked at the tiny rider still perched high up.

“Why are you still small?” You shook your head in bewilderment.

Sephiroth pouted. “I’m big now, _Nomen_.”

“No, haha. You’re still tiny, Seph.”

The little boy grumbled some more. “I’m big now! _Nomen_ will see!” He lifted his hands toward you, asking to be let down. So you put yours around his torso to lift him off the bird.

But your arms were suddenly weak. The burden of the two year old dropped to the ground like deadweight. Fright caused you to close your eyes. You couldn’t bear to see what kind of injury would occur right before you.

As you fell forward with the little boy, your forehead hit solid ground.

You didn’t feel pain nor was there any cry of pain.

What you thought to be the earth turned out to be a hard plane of someone’s chest. It was warm. The scent got much, much stronger.

You dared yourself to look upward, meeting the pair of jade irises you’d come to cherish. It no longer belonged to the boy you were familiar with, but the glint of green and silvery luster of his hair couldn’t be mistaken as someone else’s.

The strange man smirked smugly at your expression.

He spoke with a deep voice unheard previously to you, “See? I’m _big_ now.”

And thus your eyes abruptly opened to stare at grey ceilings above your bed.

It took you more than a minute to come to term with reality. You turned your head left and right. There were no lilies. Only your furniture being still as they always have. The scent you’d kept looking for was also gone, replaced by the aroma of a scented air purifier.

“What the hell….”

You sat up on your bed, dazed, feeling an inexplicable sensation in your chest. What in Ifrit’s name did you eat before bed last night? You didn’t remember consuming anything strange. You were just tired from your venture across the Wall Market, nothing more, nothing less. Who’d have thought the resulting dream would be about little Seph.

Well. _Big_ Seph.

That sounded weird once spelled out.

You quickly rubbed your face to gather sobriety. The clock showed twenty two past eight, meaning less than an hour until work starts.

Lowering your legs onto the floor, you left the warmth of your bed to start your morning routine. Luckily, by practically living right next to your office, you didn’t have to worry about how bad today’s traffic would be. Or if a guard would give you trouble upon entry. Or if you woke up half an hour late after eight. You were left with ample time to wash yourself and cook a portion of breakfast before choosing today’s attire. As always, your white lab coat came last. Your ID tag was neatly put on around your collar. You were ready to start another day despite yesterday’s mishaps and last night’s peculiar dream. By five to nine you stepped out of your room with a pleasant mood.

What you encountered outside betrayed the day’s peace.

Two men clad in military uniform were standing in front of your young neighbor’s room. You carefully closed your door, assessing the situation without a clue of what was going on. The guards refused to acknowledge your presence. They blatantly ignored you, causing more questions to pop out inside your head. Then a familiar voice hit your ear. It came from behind Sephiroth’s door.

You rushed to check on the boy, but before you were able to do so, a man came out carrying a bag loaded with toys. Behind him came another man that cradled a bundle of blanket with silvery mop of hair on top. He was carrying Sephiroth in one arm and grabbed Pickle by the neck using the other. Eredith’s voice could be heard talking urgently inside. There was someone else she argued with. You stood dumbfounded for a moment, trying to process the whole situation.

“The professor will not approve of this, sir!”

The babysitter’s voice boomed as she followed the person she’d been talking to. He was another researcher, clad with the same lab coat and wearing the same kind of ID. What you recognized right away however, was the different serial numbers on his card belonging to a member of the Division Head’s team. This was Hojo’s facility. He wasn’t allowed here.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve been ordered to seize the specimen of his project. I’m sure the Division Head is currently negotiating the terms with him at the moment. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“If the negotiation isn’t yet done, then you shouldn’t be doing anything! Are you even authorized here?!”

That was exactly the problem. You stepped up to catch the man’s shoulder as he ignored Eredith.

“Excuse me. No further action should be made before a decree is officially made.”

“Oh, look. Who is it if not Hojo’s loyal dog?” The man swatted your hand away. “Assuming you are informed about the suspension of this project, I have no need to speak any further.” He looked down upon you, distaste clear in his face.

You were aghast at the lack of professionality. Just like the guards, he ignored you to spout instructions at his men. “Take him to lab 23, store the toys away.”

The crazy bastard just ordered for Seph to be placed in the same room as _fucking_ chimeras. Only the Gods knew what kind of experiment they would execute in there. You immediately shouted to stop them. “Hey! Hey! Listen here! You need to show the decree! Confiscation without a decree is illegal!” Sephiroth’s eyes were glazed with fear. The poor thing never looked so scared before. He was silently begging you to explain what was happening, but the man who carried him kept moving faster. You cursed and discarded all pretense of respect, dashing back to your room to retrieve Hojo’s taser. Yesterday you didn’t get to use the weapon, those insolent bastards would definitely be perfect subjects to test it on.

The guards were your first target. You sneaked behind one to stick the end of the weapon and pulled its trigger, causing your victim to convulse violently until he hit the ground, unconscious. You then charged at the second guard. He was already alerted of your presence, but the rush of adrenaline that pumped in your blood gave you the strength to move lightning fast. He nearly broke your jawbone with a right hook. You dodged it by a millimeter, swiftly sticking the electrodes on his arm and pulled the trigger. He joined his partner soon after.

“LET THE BOY GO!”

The three men left froze, seeing your rage. Your hands were immaculately steady as you pointed the weapon at them. There was no fear in you. You hadn’t the time to think of what consequences you’d face afterward. They _must_ not take Sephiroth away.

“Alright, alright. Calm down. We can talk this out.” Said that researcher who declared he'd, quote, speak no further, end of quote.

“PUT. HIM. DOWN!” You barely recognized your own voice. It contained so much aggression that even the men took a step back.

“Okay!” Their leader shouted back in fear. He looked back at his men and nodded, ordering them to release the load. Sephiroth rushed to you once his feet touched the ground. You did a rapid check to make sure he was alright, pissed to find the boy still clad in his nightclothes. The bastards didn’t even let him change.

“Go now,” you spat vehemently. “Don’t come back unless you have a legal decree.”

Once you were sure they were retreating, you crouched to level Sephiroth. “Are you okay?”

The boy nodded. He was still tense and wide-eyed, clearly shocked by the recent occurrence. You gathered him into a hug, rubbing his back to soothe the fear away.

“We’ll go back now, okay? You’re going to stay with Eredith and I’ll get your father.”

Sephiroth tugged on your coat when you began to rise. He peered to your side and pointed at his favorite chocobo.

You smiled. “Wait. I’ll get Pickle.”

The stuffed animal was sprawled next to a bag containing the boy’s toys. You fetched it as well to get rid of the mess. Turning around to hand them back, you were alarmed to see fright flashing in his jade irises. It was a split-second reaction. You moved to avoid whatever might be lurking behind you.

The man with white coat was back. His face mirrored the ferocity of your previous rage. Something was moving on the edge of your vision. You couldn’t be sure of what it might be, but before you were able to move further, a sharp pain hit the side of your head and you fell limp onto the floor.

Blackness wrapped you in a cocoon of oblivion. There was nothing you could see and nothing you could do. Your limbs felt numb, unable to move, even as you caught wisps of people’s voices rustling all around. Just like the ambiguity of the whispers in your dream, you failed to get a meaning out of them. What might be minutes or hours could be passing and you were frozen helplessly. The last images of your memory kept reeling back like a broken record. Sephiroth’s alarmed expression became clearer than ever, then came the coward’s face, bringing down an abstract object upon the side of your head. The impact caused you to lie exactly where you were. You would open your eyes to see the boy’s face, and everything repeated again.

You thought the vision would be unending. Every time you failed to dodge the incoming attack, a gnawing feeling of frustration grew thicker in your guts. Here you were, shackled by the inability to resurface into the world of the living. What rage you felt had now come back with amplified intensity. When the moment came for someone to yank you back to wakefulness, the first word that heaved out of your lungs was, “Seph!”

The boy was nowhere to be found. He was long gone.

Eredith’s face came into view, she had tears down her cheeks like waterfall as her lips trembled with terror.

“Shit…,” you rose to sit up. A dull ache remained throbbing where you’d been hit previously. “Where’s the professor?”

The babysitter shook her head in desperation. It was all the answer you needed.

You struggled to stand on your feet. “There’s something I must do.”

“ _Nomen_?! Where are you going?”

Endless trains of thoughts ran rampant in your mind. You rapidly assessed each possibility to determine which course of action would resolve the problem best. Hojo was still missing and his son had already been taken away. You could only guess what might be going on with him. You hadn’t the power to reverse what happened. What you had left was the plan your mentor allowed you to do. It should take seven more days to complete and judging by how everything went downhill so fast, you couldn’t even wait for another one. Still, something must be done. You wouldn’t let Hollander lay his abominable hands on the boy. He _must_ be stopped.

As you walked down the halls without an exact direction, your rampant thoughts finally assembled a whole different kind of plan. You didn’t stop to hesitate. Hojo was still nowhere to give you permission, so you chose to skip seeking it altogether. It was time to take matters in your own hands, no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, who was that guy? Hmmm.
> 
> Reviews or simply kudos will be very much appreciated so I can continue improving overtime! Thank you!


	4. Perfectly Disastrous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something you decided to do turned into a perfect disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! Sorry for the late update! But here we go, I hope this chapter isn't that bad *laughs nervously*
> 
> As always, thanks to my proofreader, Whovianbi___girl for making this chapter better! She writes lovely stories as well, please check her works :)
> 
> I'm sad to announce that our beloved Seph won't make an appearance in this chapter, but please bear with me! He'll be reunited with his favorite reader in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for everybody who make time to read this amateur work. I know there must be a lot of mistakes and imperfections, I'm still learning like everyone else :) I hope you can enjoy the story!
> 
> A special shout-out to people who'd commented because, hey, it motivates me to keep going. Here's some of the lovely people: Xenoxe, PrincessTrunks0000, Marhella, Kai, OwlEspresso, taytle, and Lalapoh. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I wish you all the best in life.
> 
> Happy reading :D

Red.

It was all that mattered to you. Despite the dull throb on the side of your head, despite your ragged breaths, a tiny circle of red annulled everything else. Your fingers trembled as they hovered above it.

To press, or not to press. Two simple options that consisted of putting your finger an inch ahead or backing away, not one, not two, but hundreds of steps to the safety of your room. Inside and beneath the fortress that was your blanket, you could close your eyes to drive out your pain. There would be no threats of Shinra’s merciless judgement, nor a necessity to abscond. Hollander would return to mind his business as he finally turned another blind eye to your existence. By noon, or probably tomorrow, when the professor had come back, you could restart the routine of enslaving yourself to his will. He would be furious, might even murderous, but wait it out and things would go back to normal.

It would.

Or it would not.

Again, another antithesis. You were back to square one.

 _‘Try to consider it again, from_ to press, _or_ not to press.’

_‘Involve the fresh memory of failure. See what has been taken.’_

You gritted your teeth, jaws tight, highlighting another throb of pain. The hit must have been that hard for your thoughts to tangle this messily. You shook your head as if the physical act could expel what cowardice you had in mind. The tip of your finger stopped hovering. It lunged forward to punch the red button seemingly mocking you. The machine beeped after five seconds. On the timer, 168 hours stopped at 154. It blinked multiple times before going black. You had chosen your fate.

Without further ado, a vial of clear liquid tinted blue was held in your palm. It was heated and warm on your skin. Then you came for a bagful of metal you’d obtained with strife last night. Mythril and the reagent. An element and a compound who never got along. They rejected each other so fiercely that their debris of destruction nearly cost you a life. Yet for today, just once, you planned to rely on its power. You put the metal in one hand and the vial in the other. You swore the element vibrated as if loathing such proximity to its nemesis. The barrier preventing them to fight was your flesh and bone – parts of you that hopefully would survive until the end of this day.

A meek call for your name had you turning. Eredith caught up to you. She stood by the door, strands of hair escaped the usually impeccable bun, framing her aghast face to complete the look of utter disquietude. Your eyes met for a fraction of second. Both reflected the same fear, that much she could understand, but yours, there was determination burning just behind the lids.

“What are you doing?” She asked, voice thin. The woman saw your jaws clenched. She tentatively stepped closer.

“Have you tried calling him?”

She shook her head. “No. My calls can’t get through.”

Hearing the answer made your stomach churn. You leaned on a table for support as the pressure seemed to weigh even heavier. Whatever happened between your mentor and the division head within the span of 14 hours, it clearly didn’t go well. Your mentor would always leave instructions. He was a meticulous man. He’d hammer you for the most infinitesimal of blunders. No, he wouldn’t just up and go like this. Something was going on and you knew, by heart and mind, what your mentor would most likely expect you to do.

He’d want his son back. His priceless specimen.

You knew, yet you were hesitating. Just like the dream you had last night, your legs felt heavy as if the ground itself refused to let go. You were trapped between two choices that neither were easy nor innocuous. The saner, more rational part of your mind kept screaming for you to drop the baggage and leave your responsibility behind. But as predicted, you just couldn’t. An unknown force from within superseded all else. Again, like in that peculiar dream, it lured you akin to that mysterious scent among sea of lilies. Finally your limbs moved. They were heavy at first. One step, two steps, three, and four. Each distance taken got lighter, more effortless, until you were poised gallantly.

“Eredith.”

The woman roused herself to attention.

“If the professor shows up, tell him I’m only doing what I can.”

With that, you rushed from the room, ignoring her questions and calls. Your legs gradually moved faster. Hundreds of scenarios played out as you ran. Ones had you failing miserably, ending up being abandoned in the cages of Shinra militia’s hounds, to be played with or be eaten and torn to shreds. Some of the pleasant ones had you succeeding, although the notion of it felt so unlikely, but you imagined tomorrow the boy whom you had this mysterious drive to protect would be back safely, waiting for you to arrive with more stories and fragments of the outside world. He’d have no worries, no adversaries waiting, because you’d eliminate them. Then you’d worry about menial things like what to eat for breakfast, what book to read next, or what crazy ideas Hojo might push you to partake in next.

It was all delusional. Especially now that Hollander had ruined the peace. The coward had chosen to do dirty. And, well, you reckon two could play this game.

From the bio lab where your test hares still ruminated their grass, a conspicuous access to anywhere in Shinra Tower lied untouched. You mentally praised yourself for taking seemingly menial things into account. Partially because of your mentors unending rant about attention to details, you had thoroughly inspected this lab before settling in months ago. Coupled with a blueprint you accidentally read in a visitation to the Urban Development Department’s archive, you had unearthed some secret pathways around the building. There was no hidden door whatsoever. Nothing overly sophisticated, surprisingly, just void webs of pipes going through the whole facility like the inside of a termite mound.

Was the structure intended or a flaw, you could only be grateful for it.

The mako green eyes of your hares peered curiously as you fumbled with their cages. Their feast was hardly disturbed by your crude effort to move them. Your puny arms strained with the sheer weight of 6 feet of steel racks and cages. But by Gods’ grace you were somehow able to create space behind them, revealing a dusty ventilation just above your head. The cover was that of metal, square in shape, and screwed on its four edges. Plain old analog mechanism. No sensors, no codes. A simple screwdriver was all that was needed to loosen the plate. Conditioned air blew from the void as it opened. The path ahead was completely dark.

Taking a flashlight from a tool cabinet, you wedge it between your teeth as you put the vial and mythril up. You shrugged your lab coat and ID off, folding them neatly and tucking them in a drawer. Your destination wasn’t that far away but with such a small space, any kind of obstacle was better left behind to allow mobility. Using both the chair and rack to climb, you crawled into the hole with slight difficulties, but once your limbs were positioned correctly inside, it became much easier to move.

With mouth and hands occupied with flashlight, a bag of mythril, and a vial, your limbs had to bend and straighten in an almost reptilian fashion. The air was cool and dry as it blew around you in the tight space. Your nasal cavity started to prickle from the loss of moisture, but your body’s emitted heat kept the sensation from turning into a burn. The only thing to constantly bother you was the pain on the side of your head. It had been throbbing non-stop all the way until you started to invade these pipes. The dull ache amplified quite magnificently. Every pound in your skull shook your eyes until black rim formed in the edges of your vision. You also felt tears prickling as a response to the lack of humidity. Every sensation that stimulated your senses practically disagreed with your course of action, yet you kept pushing, relying on your memory to navigate along the dark, winding void.

* * *

The smooth sound of bourbon trickling into glass mellowed out a certain man’s frown. His crisp, blond hair was immaculate, his face smooth with minimum signs of wizening. He was currently sitting atop his throne at the peak of his kingdom, occupied with dozens of dossiers filling the oaken desk. The room where he sat in was the true definition of grandeur. Behind him, pillars of steel supported a majestically high ceiling, creating a space for windows that offered a vast view of Midgar’s upper plates. He was free to observe the citadel like magnates do from their halls – yes, more of a conqueror’s hall than a businessman’s office, he was a king in his own rights.

Shinra took a sip of his liqueur. He savored the sweetness of caramel and vanilla as it went down his throat. The man was a purist and thus preferred his drinks neat, just like everything else. His suit? Pressed. Hair? Combed. Demeanor? Suave.

Nothing should be out of place. At least those he had the control over.

So when a document arrived to him, early in the morning and much earlier than its supposed deadline, he couldn’t help but question the quality behind such celerity. The first page of the document only served to exacerbate his suspicion as it contained the markings of Shinra’s Science and Research Division head: Hollander.

The president read the proposal within minutes, eyes acclimatized to scanning hundreds of documents efficiently in a short period. To his dismay, he found the contents quite convincing, uncharacteristic to the division head’s rather chaotic tendencies. After going through the same explanation three times, justifying Project-G as superior compared to other works currently progressing in the division, Shinra closed the document and took a moment to contemplate.

Perhaps he should stop undervaluing his subordinate’s work. Hollander proved to be capable of handling his burden, it was just his bearings that often caused distaste. Maybe he should give the man a chance, offer him the resources he greatly needed to nurture his research. If it produced the wanted result, it would be another asset for his company. The mission to expand beyond this land should be easily accomplished. But then, if his intuitions were to be true, that this particular subordinate offered him a piece of puzzle rather than its whole set, he could be potentially burning his money into ashes. Was the so-called ‘superior’ Project-G truly as excellent as the paper made it out to be, or could there be some other dynamics unseen to him?

Shinra liked things neat, no loose ends. So he summoned the man himself to defend his cause. Maybe if he witnessed the man advocating for his trust, he could be convinced to allocate millions into the project.

Hollander came to him being his usual self. Shinra could see defiance in every flex and swing. It irked him already and they hadn’t even begun to talk.

“President Shinra. Have you read my proposal?” was the first thing that he blurted out of that mouth. Shinra’s eyes only managed not to darken. The president crossed his fingers on the desk, chin leaning on his entangled thumbs as he observed his guest.

“How are things progressing, Hollander?”

Hollander’s wide grin dwindled just a little bit. The president didn’t seem all that pleased. “I’m just peachy, sir.”

“Your project. Not you.”

The researcher cleared his throat. “Everything is also well, as I have written it in the proposal.”

Shinra exhaled a soft sigh unheard to the other man. He untangled his digits, slowly reopening the pages of the mentioned document. He stopped at one page that caught his attention. “Subject G and A,” his eyes scanned the passages for a second, “You write it as if they will be the pinnacle of this company’s military glory.”

“Oh, they will be exquisite, sir!” Hollander’s voice cut through the president’s ear. “Within a decade, as my research progresses, that SOLDIER program you’ve always talked about will have two of its best candidates.”

Confident, but cocky.

Shinra was still unconvinced.

“If I recall correctly, Project-S has exceeded yours in terms of the subject’s physical and mental development. Why, then, is it not the one I see in here?” The man’s fingers held the edge of the document up, then with a smooth glide of his finger, let the pages flip back down one thin layer at a time. He sent a sharp, questioning glare ahead, causing his audience to shiver involuntarily.

“We have,” Hollander swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “We have discussed it internally, Hojo and I. And this is our final decision, sir,” a light cough, he mentally berated himself for feeling suddenly nervous. “To equalize the progress between both of our projects.”

The president leaned back on his chair. He took another sip of the dark brown liquid, the glass lingered in front of his lips a second too long. Hollander squirmed slightly where he stood.

“I want to hear from Hojo.”

“President, there’s no need for it, sir. I am the head of the division,” he said albeit too shakily, “You should trust me.”

Shinra was having none of it. He waved his hand dismissively, “Get him here.”

That tone was final. Hollander couldn’t possibly defy that without consequence, no matter how much he wanted to curse at him. Shinra was already into the next dossier before he could say anything, anyway. So the researcher swallowed his scathed pride and left with humiliation at every step. He made sure to walk far enough, until he was out of the secretarial office and was back in the empty halls, before yelling a single syllable of, “Fuck!”

The man marched snappily. He felt anger boiling up inside. That was not supposed to go the way it did. Shinra should’ve shoved his opinions up that snobby arse of his.

Hollander stopped midway to punch a wall. Some staff who witnessed his outburst looked on with concern. He threw them his most menacing snarl and told them to get fucking going. They immediately walked away as if nothing had happened, leaving the man to exhaust himself, imagining the solid, gray wall to be Shinra’s pompous face. His chubby fists repeatedly abused a spot until the skin turned pink. Only when he felt himself running out of breath did he finally continue his march.

He practically harassed every button he met while going down the elevator. His entire face was red, his forehead sweaty and ears fuming, an appearance that, according to the person whose opinion he least wanted to hear, “Looks like a butchered pig out of a slaughterhouse.”

He punched Hojo square in the face after that.

Said man tumbled down from his chair, falling on his side with a groan. Hollander stepped on his stranded spectacles until it broke with a sickening crack. He bent down to grab a hold of the man’s collar. “Shut your fucking mouth!”

Despite the pain, the professor’s face still managed to show a hint of humor. “I dare guess Shinra isn’t bowing down to your plan.”

Hollander gritted his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to break the man’s nose, yet his words quickly reminded him why he was back in the lower levels of the tower for all the wrong reasons. He should’ve been celebrating victory right now if not for Shinra’s damned order to bring this lunatic into audience. He thus stood up after releasing his hold in a very much non-gentle manner.

“Bastard wants to hear from you.”

Hojo sat up, checking the state of his glasses. “Why? Hasn’t he read about your oh, so superior project?” The frame of his spectacles was broken in half, both lenses shattered into pieces. He sighed. “You clearly have anger management iss-”

Two pudgy hands abruptly lifted him up by the collar. The two men in white lab coats now stood on eye level. “Stop acting like you’ve got the upper hand, you crackhead!” Hollander spat in Hojo’s face. “I have your son.”

The professor’s face turned five times darker. He was oddly calm, like deep waters ready to swallow divers whole. Hollander could feel hairs standing up at the back of his neck. The air was suddenly a few degrees colder. He swallowed thickly, hastily holding onto the strongest emotion he felt – anger – to muffle his growing unease.

“You are going to tell that bastard, we have agreed to everything that’s written in my proposal. Don’t even try anything funny, Hojo, I have your fucking son.”

The man in his hold stayed as silent as a stone. It irked Hollander to an unimaginable extent, but he managed to control his anger by focusing on conveying his message clearly. “You go along, maybe you’ll get a chance to keep your lineage intact.” He looked deep into Hojo’s black, abyssal eyes, “Otherwise, your specimen’s going into disposal.”

There was still no change apparent in the professor’s body language. Hollander soon gave up trying to gauge anything. He pushed the man towards the door, snatching a pair of glasses from one of his assistants and shoving it into Hojo’s face. He couldn’t care less about the man’s appearance, but he ought to prepare if Shinra did and notice something. That bastard had annoyingly keen eyes.

The room was now empty and isolated from any other person’s hearing range but yourself.

You allowed a shaky exhale of breath to come out your lungs.

Right beneath you was the fragments of your mentor’s shattered glasses. When Hollander had suddenly stormed into the room and Hojo spouted his typical snarky insult, you knew he would be in for a good punch. And a fist to the face he had gotten. You nearly gasped aloud and revealed your position in the vent pipes just several feet above their heads. The flashlight clasped between your jaws had been your savior. Had your teeth not clench enough for it to hurt, the man would’ve most likely looked up while wondering if the ventilation had just let out a broken wheeze.

Your arms and legs were pained from the arduous task you objected them to. After climbing vents two stories high, you had initially planned to take a short break before continuing, but the sight of your mentor sitting quietly below had you stopping far longer than planned. You had heard every word. About Shinra, the proposal, and the blackmail. He never explicitly mentioned what method of disposal he might be referring to, but your blood boiled all the same. The anger, stemming from a zealous spirit to prevent harm, made you able to ignore the growing discomfort. That long stop was restful enough.

Hundreds of meters had passed, only several dozens more until you arrived. You considered yourself lucky, after two climbs, the web of pipes on this floor was mostly straight, and importantly, not ascending. The problem wouldn’t be about whether you could keep going, it was about the race with time. This had to be done before the president made up his mind. Judging by how Shinra seemed quite distrustful towards Hollander and requested for Hojo in his stead, you hoped that the conclusion wouldn’t be drawn in near time. But nevertheless, you crawled two times faster.

Rows and rows of metal pipes later, you allowed yourself to slump. Your elbows and knees throbbed, giving the telltale sign of bruises. The pain on the side of your head was still persistently aching. The state of your clothing must be beyond disarray. Dust had become one with your sleeves, causing the colors of your clothes to turn ashen. Your cargos were safe, though. In your hands, both reagent and mythril were still docile and whole. Maybe you did have a chance to keep your aching limbs until the end. As you peered down from another overhead ventilation, it dawned on you: the time to test how far your guardian angels were willing to go had come.

* * *

According to Hojo, people were grouped into two major categories: the rational and superstitious lots. He had always prided himself for being the former. His mind worked with a measured approach towards everything. Nothing existed without it being able to be deciphered. If one gave him a lake of rocks and asked to count them, he’d take samples to determine their average volume, measure the volume of the lake, and divide them to get an approximation. If one asked him the amount of lifestream flowing through certain parts of the Planet, he’d drill the ground and get a sonar to calculate the matter’s percentage. If asked to summon a forgotten god, he’d replicate the materia required to contain said god and bring it under his command.

Finding answers to problems was not just a job, it was his way of life. The gears in his mind would turn and never rest until a solution was discovered. When they did stop, he’d simply find other subjects to keep himself functioning. His strong belief had never disappointed him once. It didn’t matter how supernatural, how anomalous something might be, he believed the Gods could be made to bow as long as he used the proper instrument. Even ancient beings more powerful than Minerva herself were mere specimens of science in his eyes, they were as enticing as hidden treasures buried under vast plains of Gaia’s soil.

His judgements were accurate, dare he said, 90% of the time. It was an astonishingly high percentage in a world filled with failures born out of ignorance. He had no regard for norms upheld by society if it hindered the endpoint of his journey. Creativity should be freed from any confines. It should be unbound, especially from the wrong set of hands.

As the young professor sat still in an empty room, where he had been forcefully dragged into under the pretense of negotiation, he couldn’t help but worry. A major trouble was brewing and for the first time in his life, the gears of his mind failed to turn fast enough. Sephiroth had fallen into the wrong hands. The pinnacle of his creation, his most prized specimen, his… _offspring_ , was in danger of meeting his end. Years of research could evaporate overnight. He instantly assessed his choices yet were frustrated soon after knowing he didn’t have many. The only hope left to salvage the situation was by letting himself play the game of his enemy. He’d fall to the rhythm, stand aside to let him win, wait until Hollander became too busy celebrating before gloriously snatching his victory away at his little triumph.

Problem was, he had not a single idea of how long it would take until the opportunity to retaliate actually arrived, if it would at all.

He was utterly, and rather disappointingly, out of ideas.

The glasses that were supposed to temporarily substitute his broken one was far from compatible with his eyes. He couldn’t even see how many fingers one had from two meters away. He relied on his memory to navigate along the hallways to Shinra’s office while his vision blurred. Hollander was walking just behind him, occasionally growling or cursing at invisible things Hojo was too uncaring to even guess. The professor had more than once think about a scenario where he kicked the man’s bollocks and probably crush it with his soles so he could demand that ‘negotiation’ Hollander never actually started, but again, he wasn’t even sure if he could locate the man’s crotch properly remembering the state of his visual imparity. Hojo wasn’t much of a physical person, anyway. He’d need someone else to assist him to do that. Maybe even someone like _Nomen_ would suffice.

At the remembrance of you, his breath almost hitched. His heart pounded five beats faster. Suddenly a new kind of possibility opened amidst the previous dead-ends. He peered back at Hollander, still walking with stiff gaits, appearing as a blob of white, black, and gray to him. The man growled upon seeing his gesture. Hojo shrugged and turned himself forward again.

Hojo had almost forgotten about his assistant. _Nomen,_ his competent yet butterfingered apprentice. He also recalled their plan and how it had definitely turned into a complete waste of money and time. What even possessed him to think that seven days would just pass without Hollander trying anything? It was a lesson learned. Next time he’d deal with his enemies far more swiftly. Right now, he just had to deal with the consequences of his ignorance. He hoped _Nomen_ would, for once, use her brain to create a way out. She was the only one he could rely on at this point. Hopefully years of mentoring would take its effects.

But it was a hope.

The real situation ahead of him shattered any bubble of thoughts. He had arrived in front of Shinra’s secretarial office. Beyond it would be the entrance to his yet known fate. He inhaled a long breath and exhaled slowly, regulating his mind to prepare for what was about to come.

“Fucking enter, crackhead, don’t just stand there.”

Hojo lifted a brow. What a temper. “Learn patience, imbecile.”

Hollander must be pushed to the verge of exploding. Hojo chose to ignore him and marched ahead, leaving no room for the man’s antics. A spacious room occupied with two of the president’s assistants greeted him behind the door. They looked at the guests with expressions too blurry for him to see. As with many people, Hojo found them too uninteresting to not be ignored. What he cared about was how they didn’t stand up to ask whether he had any appointment. Good. That meant his arrival was expected after all.

The room beyond the entrance into Shinra’s office was massive. He remembered the sleek, metallic constructions it constituted of, the windows overseeing Midgar’s metropolis area. Too bad he was closer to being a blind man to enjoy the view. Even the president himself was nothing but a blob of silver suit and blond hair. He couldn’t see much of anything else.

“Hojo.” Shinra acknowledged him with his ever-aloof voice.

“Sir,” the professor nodded. “I heard you’ve requested for my presence.”

The silky sound of liquid being poured into glass reached Hojo’s ears. He almost smirked. How classic of the man, it must be his favored gold-tinted bourbon. He couldn’t see much, but he knew Shinra took his time sipping that portion. Something was bothering him. He hoped whatever it was, it’d work in his favor.

“Have you read this proposal?” Shinra held up a dossier.

“Yes.” Hojo answered, betting for it to be Hollander’s.

“Sir President, we have all agreed on that paper.”

“I didn’t ask you to speak.”

His words cut like razor. Hojo had almost forgotten Hollander’s existence in the same room. Glad to know the president preferred for it to remain so.

“Tell me, Hojo. Is this really the best your division can offer?”

 _His_ division.

That spoke volumes. Hojo wasn’t even the head. At least yet.

“Certainly not.” Behind him, Hollander growled low in his throat. It was a warning he was too tempted to deliberately miss. “But it is what it is.”

Shinra’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure I’ve stated my requirement for the best, multiple times. Where is _your_ project, professor?”

 _That_ had been a question he was hoping for. Hollander’s tension was so palpable he could taste it in the air. For too long the man actually thought he could get away with anything. Cheating his way up to the top had its benefits, but of course, his incompetence was bound to be disclosed at some point. He had underestimated Shinra’s perceptiveness. Now, Hojo just had to play this carefully for the table to turn.

Hollander shifted to stand next to him. He hadn’t said a word. But Hojo knew what he would say. _“Don’t try anything funny.”_

Pathetic idiot.

Hojo took two steps ahead, leaving the fuming man behind. He lifted his chin up to stare boldly at Shinra. “In the wrong hands, sir.”

There were long moments of silence. If suspense could be pictured, it would surely take the form of a cord stretched taut, far beyond its limits. It only took seconds until the wire snapped half with a crack. Hollander spouted syllables at the same time Shinra’s brow creased with vexation. Hojo had chosen the highway to hell. He smiled darkly where he stood. Let the flame burn. He wasn’t afraid now.

The metaphorical inferno he’d imagined had involved a long, heated debate between him and his enemy as Shinra positioned himself as the judge. He would reveal Hollander’s rotten deed for their king to see. Being the cunning man he was, he’d push the demand for punishment to the max and topple him to a proverbial ground. Then he’d climb up to occupy his dominion, high in the sky.

A _coup d'état_. He was all geared up for it.

What he wasn’t quite prepared for, though, was when the non-proverbial ground he stood on suddenly shook with ominous tremors.

Hojo looked down to his feet, then to his back, and lastly front. Nobody had moved to cause it but everyone felt it. His perplexity was mirrored by the other two occupants of the room. Shinra had looked away from his guests in search of its source. The tremors only lasted less than five seconds, but mighty enough to rattle the glass on the president’s table. After it passed, the three of them looked at one another, exchanging confused glances.

Shinra was beginning to speak when a siren blared from the overhead speaker.

The sound of alarms pierced through thick walls. Hojo whipped his head around, survival instinct suddenly activated. Protocols required him to escape through the emergency exit yet he couldn’t find any, until two people, a man and a woman, clad in black and white unisex attire appeared from behind a wall did he know where to go. President Shinra had two Turks escorting him through a secret passage. Hojo wasted no time in following in their footsteps. The door was previously engraved so smoothly on the wall, no one would notice it without careful probing. Behind him, he could hear Hollander shrieking in fear as he panted heavily to catch up to them.

The three of them jogged further into the winding pathway. The two Turks were silent, executing their task to shield the president efficiently, until Shinra himself finally decided to ask. “What is going on?”

One of the Turk, a young man with dark brown hair and a goatee, proceeded to answer swiftly. “There’s an explosion from the lower levels, sir.”

Hojo blinked as they kept moving. The Science and Research Division _were_ in the lower levels. “Has the cause been identified?” He dared himself to ask.

The Turk slowed down his movement to match his pace. From the proximity, a fresh scar going down the left side of his face became visible. “No, sir. But I believe it occurred in one of your division’s facilities.”

“Whose facility, exactly?” The professor narrowed his eyes, his heart inadvertently pounded faster. Just when he thought he’d been given the chance to turn the tables, another kind of matter arose. He was totally not ready for the wrong kind of answer to his question.

The Turk looked at him momentarily, Hojo clenched his palms to anticipate the news of his bad omen. But then the Turk’s resolute gaze at the division head behind him gave the professor his answer.

 _Oh_.

Hojo could never forget the way all colors drained from Hollander’s face.

* * *

Red.

It was all that you could see. Despite the poisonous fumes clearing above your head, and despite the flickering lights swinging gently from butchered cables, your lidded eyes could only see in one, hellish, monochromatic tint.

Your skin and lungs burned, and the throb on the side of your head had grown into a hammering pound, as if your very skull would split open in half. Blood was covering your vision, flowing from the torn skin right above your eyebrow, following every contour of your face like a stream. Everything hurt. Everything felt wrong. The way your left arm bent not from the elbow was definitely not _correct_. You could still feel the entirety of your body. Whether it was a good or bad thing was something you couldn’t decide, because every nerve end in your flesh was screaming in agony, yet only because of that you knew you were alive.

The white fumes flowed up into what remained of the pipes you had peered down from. The spot where you last crawled was now a gaping hole. Some parts of that metal web hung limply as they were wrenched from their bolts. What became of the lab got slowly more apparent. Glass tanks had broken, greenish liquid had leaked all over the floor and quickly evaporated. Shards of the demolished containers had been shot into multiple directions. You were sure the sharp pain that tortured you in several spots came from the lodged particles. There was no need to look down to know how bad the sight would be, but you being the ever-curious you, knew better it was inevitable. As soon as you regained strength to move your head, the first thing you did was cast a look upon the state of your body.

You let out a choked breath.

That small amount of mythril had definitely done damage exponentially bigger. The compact storages of hazardous matters only helped to worsen the process. It was a disaster, and for this one aspect, your luck ran out. Out of dozens of meters of pipes, the one that was ripped apart had to be exactly your spot. That fall down had been so quick. You remembered feeling a flash of fear and the first pain hit you like lightning. A metal table had laid right beneath your way down. The impact had caused you to tumble onto the ground on your back. It was a mistake to try cushioning the drop with an arm. Then the explosion spread like a plague. After one tank was demolished, the next one followed suit. That overthrown table had both hurt and protected you through it all. At the end, you were somehow still breathing. Not well nor safe, but you were very much not _dead_.

The alarm blared only seconds after the last explosion ended. Your oversensitive senses wailed with it. Your deed – or rather, misdeed – alone had caused the whole building to go into its emergency protocol. By now the employees would most likely be marching to the nearest emergency stairs, scrambling to save their lives from a damage they hadn’t a clue about. As you gathered yourself up, getting into another round of fight with pain, you realized the wound actually looked worse than they were. At least that was what you told yourself. You needed every ounce of confidence you could get, that you _would_ survive.

Using the toppled table as leverage, you pulled yourself up with your good arm. Every joint in your body screeched with every flex and twist. For this unbearable pain, you allowed yourself to scream. The alarm masked your cries perfectly. If you were in a better condition, you would think it tried to mock your suffering. But your mind couldn’t wander to such thoughts. Which way was safest to go to was what you could bear of thinking. There would be a couple of minutes until the Turks were sent down to inspect the situation. You had to get away, just not through where the employees must be swarming. The emergency stairs were a big no.

The moment you could bear to stand without falling apart, you forced your legs to move. The doors weren’t far away. You limped on your way to the exit, carefully peering through the door to see if there was still any personnel lingering. Fortunately for you, you saw no one. Thus you slammed the door open. You weren’t capable of smooth motoric control while enduring so much pain. That blasted alarm would cover you anyway. It would also hide the sound of you crashing into another table, or another cabinet, or, just, the floor.

Getting into the halls felt like a battle. There, you conspicuously creeped, dragging yourself along the wall towards where no one would think of going in this situation: the elevator. It was silly once you had a chance to think about it, as if you were a spy sauntering from a crime scene while civilians scrambled in terror, calmly choosing the most comfortable mode of transport because you knew that your mission was a success and therefore had no cause for worry. It was slightly comforting to think that way. You could almost forget the fact that you were limping instead of ambling.

As much as you wanted to go straight down into Hojo’s labs, you couldn’t. This elevator stopped one floor above your destination. You had to transfer to a separate one, which meant risking getting seen again. When the elevator dinged and opened, you didn’t step right out, peeking out to assess the situation first. It was difficult with how much your vision deteriorated. The burn on your skin had gradually faded, but the one inside your lungs seemed to be getting worse every second. Breathing soon became a labor. Your already unstable body repeatedly came close to collapsing.

At some point you began to ignore the fear of getting seen. The inability to get enough air into your bloodstream fogged up your mind. Just like the lights that greeted you after the nasty plunge, your eyes began to flicker. The part of you that desperately clung to consciousness steered your body as if on autopilot. You didn’t remember to check if anyone still lingered, didn’t care either. You were barely hanging on. Every meter passed, the struggle to remain awake harshened. The familiar landscape of the level registered in your mind in flashes. The next thing you knew, you had crossed the long halls and was face-planting on another elevator floor. That sobered you up if only a tiny fraction.

When the door of the elevator opened, revealing the level you were most familiar with, you let out a breath of relief that in turn combusted the inside of your chest. You coughed violently while doing a reprise of today’s journey in the pipes. For probably a dozen of meters you crawled on three functioning limbs as your whole body was shaken from harsh coughs. This pain was by far the worst. There was nothing you could do to soothe it, especially not by taking a deep breath. The very center of your body was crumbling from the inside. You weren’t all that confident you’d survive anymore. It was much easier to give up.

Your limbs trembled before they finally failed. Your body hit the ground with a thump, helpless like a deadweight. Your breath became so much faster and shorter. To seek air or to avoid pain was a dilemma that consumed you. When your eyes stopped seeing anything and red turned into black, even as your lids remained open, you knew it was only a matter of time until everything ended.

Maybe your mother would be proud. Or she’d berate you once she saw you again. You’d say sorry for always being so stupid, for failing to realize the dreams she had told you to chase. You’d explain everything to make her forgive you again. You missed the warm embrace she used to give you after you fought. It was far more tempting than gasping on the floor like fish out of water. But then a pair of lithe legs approached, and you thought, you weren’t actually ready to face her wrath. The memory of your childhood came back, when you had done something terrible and was frozen to the spot, waiting for your mother’s inevitable rebuke. Oddly, out of everything that happened today, that thought was the one to cause tears.

You were ready to hug your mother’s shin while uttering apologies after apologies. But her hand reached you first. It cupped your head, and much to your surprise, caressed softly instead.

Your breathing stopped for a moment.

_“Get up. You’re alright.”_

That was not a voice you had ever heard.

 _“You’re alright,”_ it repeated.

The hand on your head traveled down to lift your chin. The touch was so gentle and cool, a relief from the burning pain you felt everywhere. Amidst the blackness that you saw, there was that woman. Her face felt familiar enough for you to not feel threatened, but too removed to spark a memory. Her hair flowed down her shoulders in dark brown tresses. You drown yourself in her gaze. Her enthralling presence succeeded in distracting you from your physical struggles.

As she stood up, she pulled you along in her arms. It was slightly disheartening when her gaze moved away from you, to the infinite blackness ahead. The both of you walked side by side into the void. Each time your limp caused you to fall, she’d keep you upright. A small arm that contained more power that it showed managed to keep you moving forward. Your pain was nothing more than a dull sensation in the background now. You could only feel yourself moving, moving, and moving. Where exactly, you didn’t know.

“Where are we going?”

The woman never answered your question.

After what felt like an eternity of journeying into the darkness, you finally stopped. The woman on your side produced a vial of liquid. She handed it to you, nodding reassuringly for you to take it.

“What is this?”

Again, her mysteriously familiar visage showed no sign of answer, she only pushed the vial closer to your lips.

In a weird moment of understanding, you trusted her enough to drink the liquid.

It burned.

The previously dulled pain came back to you ten times worse. That woman looked at you passively before slowly stepping back. The darkness around you faded. In its place was glaring white light. Your hands clutched your chest. Air came rushing back into your lungs, allowing the loudest scream of your life to come out.

 _“Endure,_ Nomen. _”_ The woman’s voice reached you. _“My son needs you.”_

Her words never really registered in your mind. Before you knew it, your body toppled over onto the ground. The burn pervaded quickly into every vessel inside your flesh. Your body jerked and spasmed violently. In the process, you faintly heard things crashing around you. Metals clanged and glasses shattered. Then sounds of things snapping back into place hit your eardrums, oddly, from within.

Your core was crackling with a terrible force, as if each cell was being fused and reformed into something new. You were purged with pain.

The whiteness of the light blinded you for long minutes.

Until your screams billowed to a stop.

Then, gradually, your vision was beginning to clear up. The intensity of light around you decreased to a single row of lamps several meters above your head. The burn also faded, as was the pain.

You blinked rapidly. Air had returned to what it was supposed to feel, fresh and smooth. Your lungs no longer rejected it. Your chest could expand without getting hurt. A tingle in your limbs told you of the state they were in. You looked at your broken arm. It was bending properly from your elbow. The constant throbbing in your head had disappeared. In fact, you had never felt so much lighter. When you sat up to check the rest of your body, there wasn’t even an inch of laceration left. Your clothes were torn in places, dried blood still clung stickily on your skin, but beneath it all, you were perfectly unharmed.

_“You’re alright.”_

Your head snapped forward at the voice.

A woman with dark brown hair and familiar face stood only several meters away. Concern replaced all colors on her face. She walked tentatively to you, searching for an empty space, where none of the broken things you’d crashed in your earlier spastic madness littered the ground. It took almost a full minute for a realization to hit you.

Eredith.

Her face…was it why it looked so _familiar_?

Your eyes widened as you stared disbelievingly at her. She noticed the change in your demeanor, mirroring your confusion.

“ _Nomen_?”

 _“My son needs you.”_ The words suddenly repeated in your head. Caught between trying to figure out how your wounds seemed to magically disappear and perplexed by the inexplicable encounter, you couldn’t spout a single word to speak, let alone ask for answers from the woman before you.

Then another voice, a deeper one, called for your name.

Your eyes returned to the door. Hojo was there, panting, glasses slightly askew.

His sudden appearance snapped you back to reality.

“Professor!” You were surprised to hear how steady your voice had sounded.

“What did you do, you brat?!”

“I….”

“Get up and get changed!” The professor pulled you by the arm. He snarled at the state of your garb, pushing you to get out of the room. He looked back at Eredith, “Help tidy the mess, will you?!”

You never got a chance to ask her about the woman. She obediently got up and began to clear the floor from scattered lab items. It was when Hojo was pushing you through the door did you recognize where you exactly were. You had somehow ended up back in your own lab. The hare cages were still scooted away from the wall and the ventilation plate opened.

“You’re a fool, child. Do you know that, _Nomen_?” Hojo spoke lowly as he led you through the halls. Once the both of you reached your room, he pushed you inside and locked the door.

You stood in silence, watching the professor’s back rose and fell with every breath.

“Tell me what you did.”

He sounded caught between anger and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. There was no best way to approach this. It was better for you to be honest.

“I…demolished it all, sir.”

Surprisingly, your mentor didn’t explode as you had expected him to. The rise and fall of his back halted for a second before it began to shake.

The man let out a maniacal laughter that sent shivers running down your spine. He turned away from the door to you, showing an entirely new kind of expression on his face.

“Oh, child!” He grabbed your jaw in one hand and pulled you closer to his eyes. His eyeballs flitted from one spot to another within a second, as if gauging every inch of your head. He grinned widely, “What is it…,” he started with a whisper, “…what thoughts are running in your mind, I wonder.” The roaming eyes settled to look into your sinciput. “Makes me want to crack it open.”

You tried not to gulp too loudly.

“I-I better change, professor.”

His grip around your jaw only tightened when you tried to move away. He was still peering closely at your skull. You questioned silently if the reason for such proximity lied with the professor’s incompatible glasses. You braved a look to his face despite the growing discomfort, and was surprised to see the man’s pupils dilate.

“Professor!”

Those black circles shrank rapidly. He gazed right back at you, the madness ebbing away.

“The Turks will show up soon. Hurry up.”

He let go, unlocked the door, and without another word, left you to wonder what the hell had just happened.

Within years of working with your mentor, he’d never been much inclined to make physical contact. This was the first, and it would dishonor your true feeling if you said it only creeped you out a little.

He looked positively sinister.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts. Looking down to the state of your clothing, you’d need some time to clean yourself then make sure the fabric burned without a trace. So you began to move. Do first, ask later. After you cleaned up, there’d hopefully be plenty of time to find out if the near death experience was worth its while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edith...was that you? O_O
> 
> Oh, in case you missed it, the Turk from the previous chapter made a brief appearance here as well. Yep. He's the one who escorted Shinra.
> 
> I post illustrations of this fic on my tumblr https://e-aramis.tumblr.com
> 
> Please check it out if you'd like. The latest one is still a WIP, but I plan to finish it soon.


	5. Unforeseen Association

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were exposed to the aftermath of your misdeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update again, hehehehehe *stabs myself metaphorically*. I hope you'll forgive me :') I tried to post new chapter once a week, but, yeah, apparently it was nothing but a pipe dream. I will keep updating when I can, though!
> 
> By the way, have you ever read about a baby Sephy getting jealous? No? Well! You've come to the right chapter!
> 
> Again, a special shout-out to people who'd recently commented because, YES, I feel warm all over when I know people are enjoying this work! Here's some of the lovely people: nekky-nek, Zelayan, Kai, A_Very_Intrigued_Reader, and Thegodessofcats.
> 
> Thank you so much for everybody who make time to read this amateur work. I know there must be a lot of mistakes and imperfections, I'm still learning like everyone else :) I hope you can enjoy the story!
> 
> This chapter is not yet proofread, so I'm sorry for any mistakes you'll find.
> 
> Happy reading :D

Red had tainted even the purest of color. You spied the hue flowing down the sink with grime, water, and fuliginous liquid. Unsteady arms supported a trembling body on the sink as you looked on, an indescribable sensation filling your guts. The mirror on the wall was fogged up with steam. When you lifted your head, the sight reflected on it looked even more obscure compared to a colony of bacteria beneath the lens of a broken microscope. The only things discernable as your features were the color of your hair and the outline of your silhouette. With a wet palm, you wiped a small area on the flat surface, revealing a part of your face, distorted by droplets of dew.

A pair of lackluster orbs on a pallid face stared right back. The filth had been mostly washed out, but water alone couldn’t erase traces of weariness from skin. The person who faced you from behind that mirror looked almost like a stranger. If not aided by the memory of seeing your own appearance a year ago, ghastly from a prolonged fever, you’d have identified that reflection as someone else entirely.

The sound of your bated breath filled the room. You averted your gaze. Too many troubling thoughts and emotions were reflected. The more you looked, the closer you were to meeting something that you'd rather not. That person in the mirror, probably, wasn't the self you thought you knew. You weren't sure if you were ready to meet her. You could barely understand the workings of your own mind, the occurrences that led to this point, and the oddly fortunate happenstance of surviving. The dull throb that you'd become so acquainted with was gone, but still, you chose to lessen the burden of your mind by creating a mental distance between your actions and the rampant questions in your head. What occured became hazed as if a translucent panel of glass stood between you and your own consciousness. When the slightly too hot water drenched you, sending more red-tinted streams down the drain, you barely registered the burn on your skin. 

You peeled your clothes, layer by layer, noticing how the outer ones were already damaged beyond repair. There were tears everywhere on the fabric. Cotton fibers became unweaved where they had been mangled. The coppery stains of blood painted your shirt. Looking from how blotched they looked, it was no wonder you felt the way you did. That memory of agony would surely haunt you for a long time, another consequence you'd have to deal with later. For now, the pieces of evidence had to go.

Naked and wet as the day you were born, you stepped out of the shower with a messy bundle of clothes tucked in one arm. Your soles left wet prints all over the ground as you roamed to get a proper change. Three identical lab coats were hung neatly in your wardrobe. You snatched the nearest one after chaotically putting on a set of shirt and trousers while blowing your hair dry. The third time you slipped on the damp floor had you wondering just why you were even doing what you were doing. You didn’t like being rushed. Hojo being an inconsiderate bastard whose hobby was to call you in the most unprecedented hours never changed that.

Between trying to make your appearance look normal and not face-planting on the floor, you looked for something to carry the bundle of butchered clothes. The wire of your hair-dryer stretched and twisted as you opened each drawer in your bedroom. You had bags of different sizes, plastic containers of different colors, but none seemed ubiquitous enough to carry the lump of bloodied fabrics without looking suspicious. A brown sling bag seemed to be almost fitting if not for the antique volumes of Nibelheim’s Endemic Species already inside. You carefully re-zipped the bag and stepped back. Those precious tomes were definitely not to be bothered at all cost, especially with sweat & water dampened hands. It took three weeks for you to get a hold of them and due to all this Hollander-Hojo fiasco, you hadn’t even read a single page.

The hesitation had you pausing for only seconds, but a rapid series of knocks was already urging you to get moving. Even without the familiar grumble of his voice, you already knew it was your mentor waiting just beyond the door. Without further ado you rushed to unlock the key, but a loud popping sound soon followed as the power line of your hair-dryer got forcefully disconnected. The previously loud hum of the machine died down weakly like a car running out of gasoline.

“Shit,” swearing while throwing the dead machine onto your bed, your aim missed and it slid across the comforter to land on the floor, creating an even louder noise. Your mouth weaved a long string of continuous curses.

Hojo heard the clatter and decided you were not quick enough. He pounded on the door with a fist. “ _Nomen_!”

You half ran, half stumbled to open the door, greeting Hojo with the same urgency he had called you with. “I’m done, sir.” The bundle of clothes was back in your hands, carefully rolled so the bloodied parts wouldn’t taint your pristine coat.

Hojo didn’t yank you right away like you thought he would. He still somehow got the time to judge your far from perfect appearance, shaking his head in either disapproval or disdain. Before you could apologize for the abnormal creases on your shirt, he reached to your hair and deliberately messed it up.

“Too well kept! Make yourself look like you always do!”

Whether you should be offended or grateful, you didn’t know. Hojo didn’t give you a chance to breathe out as much as an, “Okay.” He yanked you out of your room and steered you towards the incineration chamber. The man was already hissing next to your ear five steps into the hallway, cutting off complaints that were already at the tip of your tongue. “I thought I told you to make it quick. The Turks are already down in Hollander’s lab.”

“S-sir, my clothes,” you gulped, trying to remind Hojo of the very uncovered, very conspicuous-looking bundle of fabric in your hands. You hadn’t got the chance to find a proper container.

Your voice must’ve alerted him, but he kept pushing you instead. “No time, _Nomen_. Walk faster!”

The two of you practically power-walked bordering on jogged across the hallway. No words were shared on the way to the incineration chamber. Each had their own thoughts darting around in their heads, yet both shared the same awareness of the situation. It was enough to get you functioning without the need for verbal cues. As soon as Hojo opened the door with his ID, you entered and threw the clothes inside the closest furnace. The professor lit the fire before the lid was even fully closed. You felt the heat of the flames licking on your skin, causing you to jerk away reflexively.

You wagged your hand to ease the burn with cool air. The fire didn’t quite reach you, yet the heat was enough to make the skin turn red. The beginning of a blister was already forming on the back of your hand. Thin layers of dermis peeled from it. You held your wrist tightly, biting your lip, trying to hold back your own pained sound. Hojo glanced at you when a whimper managed to escape. He looked at your hand, and after seeing the burn, took your wrist to inspect it closely.

“Bloody hell…,” The man clicked his tongue while looking around in search of something. “We need to cover it up. The Turks can’t see this.”

Your face scrunched as a result of both pain and rapid thoughts. Hojo soon released the wrist to go about his way, opening several cabinets in the corner while you stood still to keep your calm.

A brief search revealed nothing. The professor thus came back with empty hands. He was visibly agitated at the sight of his own mistake. Had he waited for a second longer before lighting the fire, this unnecessary complication wouldn’t arise. He shook his head snappily, “Let’s go to the supply room.”

You nodded despite a feeling of annoyance beginning to make itself present in your face. He could at least apologize. But of course he didn’t, in favor of getting the matter done, as always. Now your brain had to work out more lies for the Turks when they asked, just _why_ your hand was conveniently burned after an _explosion_ had just occurred.

Brilliant, Hojo. Truly.

The two of you were ready to move on to the next room, Hojo still grumbling to himself and you attempting to not sigh in exasperation. You clenched the wrist of your burned hand. Focusing your attention to the sensation of restricted blood flow would somewhat control the pain, which, as you had noticed, actually dissipated.

Your forehead creased in confusion.

“Sir, wait!”

Hojo stopped himself halfway out the door, throwing you an irritated look. It would be a lie to say that didn’t offend you. He deserved some kind of a smack on the head sometimes, though that should be saved for another time. You beckoned the man quickly.

Two sets of flabbergasted eyes hunkered down on a smooth skin. The very same skin on the back of your hand, that, only seconds ago, was flaking. You stared at it with all breath taken away. Hojo even took his glasses off and chose to peer closer with his bare eyes.

“How….” Exactly. The professor had perfectly represented the question you had in mind.

You lifted a hand to stroke the skin. It was as normal as it could ever be. There was no pain, no lesion, just the feeling of your fingers running smoothly.

Silence engulfed the room. Hojo exchanged the same thunderstruck expression with you. Only the crackle inside the combustion chamber filled what voices had failed to do. Your throat was dry and you didn’t know what to say. No explanation would be plausible enough right now. Even the Promethean scientist in front of you was also muted, unable to produce a hypothesis unless it would sound asinine.

Out of the blue, based on mutual inability to understand, Hojo simply put the glasses back on his nose, stood straight, and urged you to leave the room with him. Surprisingly, being dragged away didn’t cause any reason to feel discomfort. It was necessary if only to stop you from being stunned.

With the silent agreement to presently ignore the hanging questions, you threw a last glance at the flames that had started to die down. The threads would have burned to its smallest component. Everything would be turned into ashes and carbon, leaving nothing to be examined by anyone. One trace of evidence had been erased just like that. Destruction hadn’t occurred to you as the safest method to settle matters. You couldn’t deny the effectiveness of it, though. Got an enemy? Blow them off. Got something to rid of? Pyre them up. That was pretty much what your problem solving capabilities have been reduced to, more capricious than scheming. You didn’t think far ahead beyond the point of getting the problem done. Like how you got mysteriously revived, the answer to why you kept making impulsive decisions for the sake of another, especially a child, was still enshrouded by the novelty of your rash actions itself. Only several months back, not in a hundred years would you have thought of meeting Hojo’s offspring, venturing back to Corneo’s den, or being the perpetrator of a terrorizing attack in your own division.

It was a good thing you didn’t occupy a prominent position in the hierarchy of the company. Being an apprentice had its drawbacks as well as its advantages. Shortcomings had been too many to be mentioned, but one of the benefits meant you had a mentor to rely on when he wasn’t busy being absorbed in his own world. And speaking of, right now you were actually involved right in the middle of that very world. Any mistake you made would be directly linked to him. Knowing Hojo, he would already be thinking half a dozen steps ahead, figuring ways of preventing you from making any blunder. It was done to benefit himself as a trusted Shinra employee, but the effort to protect you that followed gave a small assurance of safety. If your deductive function chose to shut down, at least Hojo would be there to smack some senses back into your head.

On your way to the halls, the state of some hare cages suddenly popped into your mind. Last you saw them, they were still removed from the wall where the air vent was located. It would raise suspicion if someone were to see. You should trust Eredith to fix them up by now. But then again, who were you to assume she wouldn’t miss a bolt or misplace a concoction. As far as her job entailed, those never included in the list. Well, neither was fixing up vents listed in yours, but you supposed with all those fiddling with machines, you ought to know a bit more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hojo grasped your arm the moment you veered to the way of the lab. His eyes were twice as sharp behind a pair of slightly askew glasses, definitely belonging to someone else judging from how the size failed to fit his face. Your gaze inevitably darted to his hand wrapped tight on your wrist. He followed your gaze into the place where your skin should have scalded. The hold of his fingers turned firm, as if daring you to shake him off. You really hadn’t gotten used to the professor’s sudden keenness to touch. Maybe the tension was getting to him worse than you thought.

“I need to check the bio lab. If the Turk sees anything amiss, we’re done.”

Again, his palm clenched around you, pulling you to the direction of your destination. Despite feeling uncomfortable about the contact, you chose to keep it to yourself, instead committing every nervous ticks and gestures he made into memory. Who knew that under pressure, even a man as aloof as Hojo would seek comfort in the form of physical connection? That might open up previously unknown traits of the man, so you demurely let what happened happen. In all honesty, if the man wanted to leave his hand on you all the way to the lab, you wouldn’t protest, but maybe finally the professor himself sensed his odd behavior and let his hand fall.

You turned to look at him, wondering if something changed his mind, yet the man was already looking in the direction of the elevator. He was frozen in his spot, fully alert, as you also saw what caught his attention: the elevator was moving.

“Oh, shit.” Either because of your mediocre choice of curse word or he was simply startled, the professor glared at you.

“Don’t just stand there! Get that woman out of the lab!”

Slightly panicking, you dashed as quietly as possible to where your hares must still be ruminating peacefully. Eredith’s form was hunched down in front of the cages when you slammed an already open door to the poor wall. She whipped her head to the loud bang, eyes widened and mouth parted. In tandem with her recognition of you, the shocked expression on her face melted like ice. She stood up, revealing, unexpectedly, a very tidy surroundings. The metal plate had been reinstalled properly, covered by a rack of cages. Your test animals were, as you had predicted, still enjoying their provisions. There were no traces of your blood left on the floor, the tables were aligned perfectly, and…the vials.

Rows of vials containing various compounds were exactly where they were supposed to be. You found yourself marveling at the arrangement. As far as you remembered, your mysterious revivification in this very room was pretty raucous. Plenty of things were knocked around, including the table where those containers sat on. Each was labeled with numbers recorded only in your journal. Without the proper background to understand the basics, it was nigh impossible someone would be able to rearrange them accurately. Yet there they were, sorted perfectly on their wooden holder. You counted from the first to last, and was soon baffled by the fact that nothing was amiss.

Well, except one.

A certain vial that was used to contain your latest compound was gone.

“Did the professor help you out?”

Eredith blinked, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“The vials….”

“I haven’t seen the professor since...,” she answered with a tone twice as unsure as you did.

You couldn’t help but _really_ look at her. She perched as graceful as a noble, despite her hair being put up in a messy bun and some unruly strands framing her face. A resemblance to a certain figure was uncanny. The image of a brown haired woman who aided you suddenly reappeared. The woman whose face you lost in memories, whose hands were steady as she helped you get up when you thought all strength had left — she was the one who gave you that elixir, which happened to have the exact same color with the content of that missing vial.

You shook your head. Time to dawdle on the matter was something you didn’t have. The thought was ushered away before curiosity got the better of you.

“Nevermind,” You quickly dismissed the confusion, talking more to yourself than the woman. “We need to leave.”

The need to understand what was going on was still apparent on her face, but Eredith chose to trust you. She left her post after throwing a last sweeping glance to make sure nothing looked amiss. You turned the lights off and locked the door in her wake.

“The Turks have come down. Walk with me to the elevator and don’t say anything unnecessary.”

She nodded firmly. “I understand.”

The two of you began sauntering, careful to keep your gaits controlled. The presence of two employees still occupying the tower itself was an abnormality, you didn’t want to add more to be discerned by the hawking gaze of the Turks. Eredith, bless her shrewdness, knew it as well as you did. She kept her distance and pace to match yours. The thump of her heart probably mirrored your own. The echoes of your steps sounded haunting in the empty hallways. Two sets of feet, almost side by side, constant in movement akin to the needle of a clock. The rhythm was easy to get lost into. Your attention became solely focused on the destination ahead, where your mentor was, and consequently, where some unwelcome guests were.

Once the sight of the elevators came into view, anyone could tell how grim the state of the main hall looked. There were six people forming a broken circle — five were four men and a woman clad in the infamous monochromatic attire, and the last one would be the professor himself. He was under the investigating glare and inquiries thrown by a Turk whose back faced you. The rest of them had begun to disperse in multiple directions, observing every nook and cranny of the level. You almost stopped in hesitation to make yourself known. You had a choice to just leave. There were places you could hide inside until the inspection ended. The incineration chamber would be a good example, nobody would expect a living person huddling inside. As long as the flame didn’t combust on its own, it was a safe choice, or so you thought fleetingly, before the female Turk happened to head towards where you and Eredith were.

Your stomach dropped for a second. If the Turk noticed a startle in your steps, she didn’t show it. Your legs walked almost autonomously, making sure to give her the most stoutish eye contact you could muster. The returned gaze felt heavy on you as you passed her. She probed your form from head to toe with vigilant eyes, immediately doing the same to your companion the moment she was finished with her first target. The five steps it took to get past her felt like the longest saunter in your life. A neverending chant of, _‘Please let me through, please let me through,’_ was ceaselessly repeated in your head as if you possessed the telepathic power to sway her.

The Turk let you go with nothing worse than anxiety, although you could still feel the heat of her gaze on your back, long after you had passed. You continued ahead, intent on making your presence known by the professor. He stopped talking with a low voice once he caught a glimpse of you. The Turk whom he’d been inquired by shifted for only an inch, seemingly noticing the professor’s change of focus. Then the broad back turned in a full circle, revealing a face you had definitely wished to never see again. He managed to do what the previous Turk failed to achieve. He froze you completely by a mere glance of his.

_The Turk kept off the main streets as if he knew your avoidance of it. He kept his arm all the way until the same stair you’d come from was visible. “Will you manage on your own?”_

_You awkwardly pushed his arm away, “Yes.”_

_There wasn’t much to be said. He’d helped you out of his own volition. You were allowed to not treat this as a favor. But as you climbed the way up, your conscience metaphorically kicked you._

_“Hey!”_

_The Turk was already on his way, but upon your call, he looked back._

_You cleared your throat, preparing to remedy your action by saying, “Thank you.”_

_He gazed at you with an expression you couldn’t quite comprehend. All you knew was it looked somewhat creepy. You were about to leave without awaiting a response if he chose to keep doing that. And then he smiled, a gorgeously crooked one that was more like a smirk, but a response nonetheless. He lifted two fingers to his temple and bade you hasta la vista._

That same young man with a scar on his left cheek had decided to grace you with a reunion. How your paths ended up crossing again was a joke you believed only the gods understood. There was no way he had forgotten. Sector six’s red light district had been dim and partly tenebrous, but still enough to cast a light onto both of your faces. His hair, his eyes, the curvature of his cheekbones, every feature was the way you remembered it. His lips twitched at the sight of you. That reaction, however miniscule, was the only sign needed to affirm his recognition of you. The smirk which followed was a perfect fit to the image of his smug farewell in your head.

And damn the lights, they just made that smirk look more gorgeously impudent.

“Son of a-”

“ _Nomen_!” Hojo cut you right off.

The Turk tilted his head to glance at the professor. Your lips snapped shut, hiding the gritting teeth behind. Out of all the time for your mentor to spill it out, he just had to choose this moment. The young man’s smirk grew slowly into a grin. Now he _knew_ your damn name.

“As my assistant has arrived, I see no more reason for you to impede me! I demand the retrieval of my specimen!”

The dark eyes lingered on you for a few seconds. “Alright.” His expression reverted back into a stoic mask as he faced Hojo. “My colleagues will have to check this level, and as _you’re_ the one who has full access to the labs, _you_ should remain here, professor. Your assistant may get your specimen back with me.” That last line was said with a hint of satisfaction.

You bristled up instantly. “Eredith will come with me. She’s Sephiroth’s caretaker.”

“I’m afraid she can’t.”

You felt a mix of irritation and dread budding in the pit of your stomach. He and you were trapped in a silent battle of will through death glares, hanging on until either of you would break. Your growl seemed to reverberate through the empty space between you. Hearing the hostile noise, he lifted his eyebrows in the manner of a man facing a hissing feline. He had the gall to chuckle at your blatant show of animosity.

“Due to the unprecedented incident earlier today, as of this moment until further notice, Hollander’s level is being classified as a sterile zone. Only authorized members of this division may enter with our strict supervision.”

“Surely you can allow her to come!”

“Only a single outside personnel at a time is allowed entrance.”

You shook your head, standing back to give way to Eredith. “Take her, then. Sephiroth will be needing her care.”

“I’m sorry, it has to be either you or the professor. But seeing as the professor is required here-”

“Me?” That exclamation wasn’t intended to sound that desperate, but it really took all your effort to stay as calm as you were. Being alone with this man was something you wanted to avoid at all cost. “What difference would it make if she-”

“She may work in this division but she is not a member of the research team, Miss _Nomen_.” His tone had dropped an octave lower. The playfulness in both his voice and eyes was gone, in its stead was the soul-gouging gaze particular to the Turks. “You are.” The man meant business this time.

His sudden change in aura had caused the rest of the Turks to turn their heads towards you. The uneasiness caused by his gaze became multiplied by five. It was more than you could take, one moment longer and you were afraid you’d falter.

“ _Nomen_.”

You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until Eredith’s soft voice called you. She put a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “Please get Sephiroth. I’m sure he’ll be just fine with you.”

Your heart was thrumming behind your ribs, and a drop of sweat rolled down your back. Eredith’s reassuring gesture was the only thing helping your knees from buckling right then and there. You deliberately stared into her eyes seconds longer than one normally would, as long as it would take to avoid looking back at the man in front of you.

“Come, miss assistant, we shouldn’t waste time. I believe everyone here is on a tight schedule.”

That was it, your last warning. There was no possible escape for you now. Even Hojo couldn’t evade the arrangement. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the beat of your heart. “Lead the way,” you uttered as steady as your voice allowed.

He nodded fervently. The smirk was back on his face as he gestured to let you by. “Please, ladies first.”

Well.

Come hell or high water.

* * *

As far as awkwardness might progress, you were sure this was the farthest it could go. A man whose name you hadn’t even known yet was riding in the same elevator, standing much too close than you would’ve liked. His hands rested on his sides, his posture relaxed yet steady, exactly the perfect image of Shinra’s most feared intelligence force. The stillness in his body was akin to a falcon, whose eyes were vigilant and wings ready to expand. You were afraid any movement on your part would trigger the predator to dive for a hunt.

The beat of your heart refused to settle even with long and controlled intake of breaths. You couldn’t shake the dread away. From the very first meeting, the man was already a threat, despite his unforeseen kindness, he was far from what you could call an ally. The only thing that could be genuine about his help was his devotion to the President of Shinra himself. A Turk doesn’t act unless under the interests of the company. It was more than possible he had actually known you before you first met him in that shady inn. He might’ve acted dumb all along. You were practically as blind as a badger mole when it came to guessing his intentions.

“You’re staring.”

A soft gasp left your nose in the most undignified way. Apparently your side-glances were not as discreet as you thought. “Your scar is in plain sight.”

He tilted his head to return your stare. “Is it that horrible?”

You realized just how rude you must’ve sounded, even to someone whom you didn’t favor. A braved look to his face revealed a tid bit of concern, and you instantly felt bad. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way….”

His eyes blinked once. Those eyes could be far more expressive than the rest of his body combined. You saw a flash of amusement right before it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “It’s alright. No offense taken.”

The man turned his face back towards the metal doors of the elevator. It became silent again, but somehow the lack of words felt less suffocating compared to before, if only slightly. None of you spoke until the speaker announced your arrival at your destination. It was a short trip that almost felt like eternity. The man allowed you to exit first once the doors opened. He was right behind as you walked into the halls. You slowed down, failing to familiarize yourself with the surrounding. The quickest way for you to remember which way to go was by looking up at the ventilation pipes overhead, and boy, would that look suspicious. He would have to tell you where to go. The problem was, you weren’t sure you wanted to _ask_ the man a favor. So you stubbornly marched straight ahead.

The layout of the level was more or less similar to Hojo’s common halls. The elevators opened to the main entrance with a door that can be opened by a personnel’s ID. It was held open at the moment for you knew the commotion that must be happening inside. A closer look beyond the entrance revealed halls filled with Turks, Hollander’s team, or Shinra military. There were two men — also Turks — guarding the only way in. They would’ve stopped you had your unwanted companion not signalled them to back down. They nodded in understanding and went back to their posts, standing so still that they could probably merge with the wall itself.

Most doors to the labs around you were sealed. The ones that were opened would be guarded by at least one Turk or a military personnel. You casted glances all over the large hall. Everything still looked pretty much normal aside from the bunch of guards. You got so caught up in gauging every landmark that you paid no real attention to where you were going. After all, being allowed into Hollander’s private level was a rarity. Who knew for what purposes it might be useful in the future.

“To the right, Miss _Nomen_.” The man’s voice startled you out of your stupor.

You peered back from your shoulder and narrowed your eyes at him, wanting nothing more to refuse the help just to please your ego. But it would be an utter, blatant lie. You direly needed his assistance without the clues provided by the pipelines. You had no choice but to concede. On a three way intersection, the path on the right was taken. It was a long hall with rows of doors sparsely arranged on either side of the walls. The further you walked, the sounds from the main hall steadily lowered until it became no louder than a buzz. The way opened to more winding halls that you managed to navigate solely on the directions that were given to you.

After approximately a minute of trying to keep your pace faster than the man behind you — to avoid the spark of another conversation and his maddeningly probing stare, the quietness was once again filled with a low buzz. You had come to a wholly different area. Nothing much was amiss. Only the walls were painted in a darker color, the floors and doors were metallic. No other change was substantial enough. Until, as if out of thin air, the sight of destruction appeared right before your eyes.

On the row of the opened doors to your left, beyond the wide shoulders of Shinra’s guards, multiple labs had been turned into hell. The walls were no longer intact, torn apart in some areas as if a bahamut had made an impromptu appearance indoors. Shards of metal and broken utensils were scattered all over the debris. Pillars that supported the ceiling were cracked, several of them were even blown right off its roots. You forced yourself to keep walking ahead despite the weight that bore down heavier by the second. You had to keep your cool and just keep moving, ignore the flickering lights hanging from gaping ceilings, or the broken array of glass tanks that connected multiple labs in a single line, or the malformed bodies that had flowed out of them with puddles of tainted green liquid.

From the very first place, you already knew the kind of havoc you’d be wreaking. But to plan and to see were two different things. When your eyes caught a sight of a familiar broken line of pipes, even your bestest might stood no chance. You instantly stopped dead in your tracks.

The busted ventilation pipe was wrangled from its rightful place. A gaping hole where you must've fallen from was located right above an area filled with pieces of broken glass. Near it was a toppled table, the top dented from cushioning your descent, resulting in what could only have been described as the worst burst of pain you had ever felt in your life. You still remembered the sound of cracking bones clashing with deafening explosions. A burst of white and green had blinded your open eyes for a brief moment, followed by the streams of hot fumes that evaporated from the tanks’ leaks. The sensation of not being able to breathe, body crippled by pain, and burned lungs came back to you in a rush. You losing your consciousness not long after had been one of the greatest blessings in your life. Otherwise, you might’ve given up solely from the shock.

“It’s a failure of design, don’t you think?” The question posed more as a trigger for reaction than a quest for answer. Without turning to look at him, you already knew he would be putting you under his watchful gaze. You strived to keep your body controlled lest he would perceive too deep into you.

“What are you referring to?” Keeping your voice from wavering? Not so successful. He must’ve caught that. You didn’t dare to look into his eyes right now, instead focusing on the ruins beyond the doors.

“Connecting rows of glass tanks filled with reactive medium, that is.”

Honest to the gods, you hadn’t a clue what he was playing at. “I suppose so.”

“If a leak were to form, the whole channel would start a chain reaction,” the Turk paused for several tense seconds. “Five labs are utterly destroyed, forty seven specimens killed, and twenty researchers injured.”

Your breath stopped as a shiver of terror creeped up and down your spine. “Is there any...fatality?”

The man remained quiet as if he was oblivious to your question. Your chest tightened in the silence that stretched. It grew more and more unbearable the longer time passed. You clenched your teeth, and, impatient, recklessly looked up to meet his eyes.

It was a mistake.

The pair of dark orbs sliced through your defenses. Your eyes widened a fraction, in both fear and trance, to reveal emotions you had so meticulously hidden. He was standing much closer than you remembered. His presence imposed itself upon you, forcing your already crumbling composure to falter even further.

“As I’ve said, forty seven specimens were killed. All of the staff survived.”

A breath you had been holding was released in relief. Some mistakes you had the spine to carry, but to have blood on your hands would be a sin you could never relinquish to the grave.

A smirk appeared on the man’s lips, inches away from your face. “Relieved, Miss _Nomen_?”

Eyes locked onto his, you were unable to cover anything. He read you like an open book whose pages were subtly coaxed and forcefully held open, all the while you had no clue whatsoever as to what he was doing. You were at a total loss for words. A feeling in your gut told you that the man had actually known everything, then your mind whispered tendrils of temptations to give up, that your efforts to keep the facade was already failing anyway.

“Those glass tanks were thicker than the joint of my thumb,” he held his hand up, close to your face. “Not to mention, strengthened by Shinra’s engineers. It was unlikely for the material to...suddenly leak, wasn’t it?”

You froze in place, each hair on your body stood on end. “It’s not impossible,” it surprised you slightly to notice how well you had managed to sound steady. “The pipes’ terminal could’ve been loose.”

“Or it could be wrenched open by an external force, such as an incision, bludgeoning, or a triggering explosion.” The last word was deliberately drawled out. There was no way, again you repeated, no _way_ he hadn’t already known. “Yet there have been no traces of explosives that we know of.”

Finally getting enough sense to divert your eyes away from his, you snorted a fake derision. “The probability of your hypothesis being incorrect is just as high as the likelihood of there being a single loose bolt.”

“It’s true,” he conceded. “Though I have recently found an interesting fact. Apparently some metals, like _mythril_ , can be highly reactive. I’m no scientist, but even I know that much.”

Still avoiding looking at the man at all cost, you hissed out, “What are you getting at….”

“What were _you_ getting at, Miss _Nomen_? Your division has plenty of mythril in stock.”

“So you think I was-”

“Shush.” He raised a finger against your lips, effectively shutting you up. You couldn’t help but look once again at him. His face was gradually turning stoic as the emotionless mask came back to inhibit his ever-controlled expression. “Save your useless defense for when we’re alone. He’s here.”

The man’s eyes were no longer boring down unto you. He looked right past you, to a distance on your back. A sound of hurried steps began to reach your ears soon after. When the Turk let his finger fall from your lips, you dared to peer behind your shoulder, exposed to the sight of a certain division head.

Hollander was marching closer, his face red, coat crumpled, and overall looking unkempt as if he’d been loitering one too many sleepless nights in his office. The loose slippers of his feet made sharp noises as they slapped against the floor. The bulging belly barely held by his belt bounced furiously with every step. He was grumbling to himself, similar to Hojo in a way, and his eyes were focused solely on you. There was obvious heat and anger there, but it failed to deliver any effect. It was hard to pretend that you felt even an ounce of fear against him. The Turk’s cold gaze was far more intimidating even in its stillness.

“YOU!” Hollander raised his hand, pointing a pudgy finger at you. “What are you doing here, dog?! Did your master send you here?”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Where is Sephiroth?”

“HA! Coming to get your master’s toy, I see!”

“With all due respect, sir,” Oh...what a lie. There was no more of it left for him in you. “You have infringed our property and taken what was not rightfully yours. I am here to retrieve him.”

“Infringed?!” Hollander threw his hands up in disbelief, he closed the distance between you and him, speaking a breadth away from your face. “What about you and your master, dog?! You must’ve done something! Yes, a scheming, sniveling, bunch of freaks! Tell me what you did!” Two thick, clammy palms choked your neck as he lifted you up by the collar. He was about to spat more derisive words upon your face before you saw another hand, posed like a tiger’s paw with its claws out, lunged onto your assailant’s neck, effectively pushing him back and off of you.

Throttling noises were choked out of his throat as Hollander clutched onto it, trying to regain his breath. The Turk’s hand was still lifted up in the solid clawing pose. His face remained as stoic as a statue, showing nothing for anyone to decipher.

“Please refrain from resorting to violence, or I’ll have to intervene.”

Still coughing slightly, the division head roused to meet the Turk’s impassive stare. “You dare raise your hand against me, Turk?! You should be detaining her!”

“I can’t, sir. There has been no evidence nor eyewitness.”

You whipped your head at him, eyes widening at his negation of the existence of an eyewitness. What in Ifrit’s name was he doing? Mere moments ago he was clearly referring to your first meeting. If all else was wrong, at least the fact that _he_ was the eyewitness was a truth. Yet he denied it.

He seemed to notice your confusion, tilting his head slightly to look at you, and for a brief second, the impassive mask fell to reveal his typical smugness.

It disappeared the moment Hollander began yelling again.

“There’s no need for that! Her mentor’s grudge against me is enough motivation to label either of them as suspects!”

“You are the suspect here, Mr. Hollander.” The Turk said with an icy tone, colder than the winters of Nibel. His patience for Hollander’s antics had begun to run out. “Professor Hojo had filed a report of your infringement upon his private labs, including an unauthorized suspension of his project, and unwarranted confiscation of his subject.”

“I’m sorry to interject. That subject we’re talking about is also the professor’s son.” It actually bothered you to speak of Sephiroth the same way one would speak of a property, although he was, in many ways, Hojo’s property. But certain situations required certain measures. You had to let it slide.

“Ah. I appreciate the reminder.” The Turk’s lip lifted to form one crooked smile. “You’ve made an infringement upon Professor Hojo’s family as well. Just another one to the long list of charges.”

Being subjected to the Turk’s form of intimidation and watching it being done to someone else were two wholly different experiences. You clearly saw how the wit slowly bled out of Hollander, probably exactly like yours had been. The difference was, you held on longer and fared much, much better. You silently took pride in that fact.

“My memory isn’t perfect, but if I may reiterate what kind of charges have been filed against you, there are mistreatment of employees, plagiarism, unethical testing on human subjects, malpractice, insubordination to direct orders, evasion of contract, invasion of privacy, scamming...ah, and even harassment. If you want to lessen the consequences, you might as well start with returning what you’ve taken, Mr. Hollander.”

Said man was utterly speechless. He had been proverbially K.O.-ed and had no way of bouncing back from that slaughter. His previously red face had lost all its colors, leaving a ghastly pale expression, filled with apprehension. If the situation weren’t so fickle right now, you would definitely enjoy seeing the checkmate. You just knew better. The Turk’s attention might be diverted from you as of this moment, but only himself and the Gods knew if you’d be targeted again. It would be best for you to follow wherever this was going.

Hollander didn’t spit out as much as a protest when the Turk led you ahead, abandoning the stunned division head to ponder on his fate. You repeated the previous act of walking to the direction that was given by your companion, cruising the quiet halls until a turn to the right revealed an end.

“I believe your specimen is beyond that door.” He said to you, waving at the singular sliding metal door.

You checked the security system. “My ID isn’t authorized.”

“As per the emergency protocol, any door on this level can be unlocked with a special access. If you’d excuse me.” The man gently pushed you to the side, opening the lid of the lock, then entering a series of codes unseen to you. He closed the lid again, then, the machine beeped thrice before the heavy door slid open.

Without further ado, you entered the room, eager to meet your little neighbor. Your mind was already running a mile, thinking about what possibilities you might encounter. Sephiroth could be upset, nervous, or even traumatized. You didn’t know to what extent Hollander's team was willing to look after his needs. He could be abandoning the child entirely. And if that was the case, really, Eredith would be much more suited for this. You couldn’t find a suitable way of handling the situation.

Barely three steps inside, you were forced out of your own thoughts, standing with mouth agape and completely shocked. There were bars of steel cages all around you, filled with various sorts of chimeras lurking in the darkest corners they could find. Their eyes glowed in the dim lighting, watching the two legged newcomers as they heavy breaths sniffed your alien scents. A particular one braved to approach you from behind bars. It was an outlandish creature with a ridged beak for a mouth and the four legs of a canine. It growled low in its throat, the sound of it similar to the rumble before a storm.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You urgently asked your companion while looking in every direction. There were nothing but metal cages.

“There’s a door at the end. He must be inside.”

Following his words, you found an inconspicuous door hidden behind wooden crates. It was locked from the outside with a slot. Exorcising any horrendous thought, your hands deftly slid the lock and pushed the door open. Inside was an even darker room compared to the one you were standing in, completely barren of any light whatsoever.

“Seph?”

No answer.

You dared a step forward.

Then, about three meters away from where you were, a set of glowing emerald orbs appeared. You froze in your steps, suddenly aware of the distance between you, the lurking being, and your companion staying outside. Had he intended to trap you here, after all? You were prepared to dash out in fear of getting locked in complete darkness.

“ _Nomen_?”

That quiet call, you would recognize it anywhere.

“Sephiroth!”

The set of glowing orbs blinked once, twice, then in a flash, white light filled the room. You covered your eyes for a second to adjust to the brightness. Your companion had turned the power switch back on right outside — the real reason for his delay earlier. He entered the room tentatively, observing the sight of a toddler sat on a linen-covered mattress. Everything was white or grey, just like the color of shining hair atop the child’s head. The two of them exchanged a tense and calculated look — something that, if were performed by anyone but Sephiroth, would sound ludicrous describing a two-year old.

You came rushing to him, knees hitting the solid floor right in front of the bed. His eyes sparkled at your arrival. “ _Nomen_!” He crawled to your arms, wrapping his limbs around your body as soon as you held him.

“Are you okay?” A mixture of concern and relief heavily laced your voice. “I’m so sorry, Seph…. Did they do anything to you?” You loosened your hold on him to take a better look at his face.

The child shook his head. “They left me alone, a- and, there was a loud boom!”

Realizing how close the room was to you when the explosions happened, you couldn’t quite imagine the degree of terror it must have been for him. “Oh, Seph….”

“ _Nomen_ don’t worry, I wasn’t a- afraid!” The pouty lips, childish frown, and scrunched up nose made you chuckle. Sephiroth put both his tiny palms on your cheeks, making sure you saw the bravery in his eyes. “I’m not lying!”

You hugged him again, nuzzling the top of his head. “I believe you. Though it’s alright if you were afraid.” Sephiroth didn’t protest this time, instead gripping the fabric of your coat tighter. “I would be really scared if I were you.”

The boy sniffled on your chest. “That’s because _Nomen_ isn’t as brave as me.” His voice was muffled, but you didn’t miss the annoyed tone he conveyed. It made you laugh again.

“That’s right. You’re a brave boy.” You rubbed his back as you stood up with him in your arms. It felt comforting to have the weight of him back in your cradle. Even though the muscles of your arms would soon protest, you swore not to let him go until he was back safely.

“Are you hungry?” You whispered next to his ear.

Sephiroth had rested his puffy cheek on your shoulder. You felt his head move as he nodded.

“Alright. Let’s go back, yeah? We’ll get you warm food.”

“I want milk. With honey.”

A smile bloomed on your lips for the first time since the whole fiasco began. “Yes, yes. Anything.” You turned to leave, and the small happiness instantly vanquished when the Turk whom you’d momentarily forgotten was still there.

Right.

Your problem isn’t quite yet done.

You walked past the man, back into the room with steel cages. Sephiroth still rested his cheek on your shoulder, looking silently at the glowing pairs of eyes watching from the shadows. If he were spooked, the child was good as hell at hiding it from you. You kept rubbing circles on his back in case he needed the touch.

“You look good when you smile.”

Both you and Sephiroth threw the young man a sidelong glance. You were back in the halls where the aftermath of your misdeeds was displayed as clear as a crystal. He had hastened his pace to walk next to you, on the side where Sephiroth wasn’t.

Seeing the deadpan stare you and the boy directed at him, he smiled awkwardly for a second before clearing his throat. “I’ll escort you both back down.”

You stopped walking in a particularly quiet section amidst the halls, waiting for him to do the same.

The Turk slowed down to a stop as well, returning to approach you. “Is something the matter?”

With such proximity, you finally noticed how the man wasn’t wearing the stoic mask he had been using to deal with both Hollander and Hojo. His face was uncharacteristically bared, showing small hints of controlled emotions on its surface.

A long sigh escaped you, garnering the attention of your two audiences. “What do you want from me?”

He stared in long moments, either confused or calculating, or a mix of both.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but if this is you waiting for the right moment to drag me down, you might as well do it now. Go on and testify,” your voice cracked mid sentence. You swallowed to dampen the dryness in your windpipe. Your eyes were clenched shut as you gathered the courage to finish. “You practically have your foot on my neck, why not step down and crush me while you’re at it?” You didn’t know where you found the recklessness to challenge him as your eyelids reopened, revealing the fire behind them.

The reaction to your question came as totally unprecedented. His eyes widened a fraction, as much as his controlled demeanor allowed him to, while his lips parted slightly. The man stood still, obviously needing the time to process your words. He looked from you to the boy in your arms. Sephiroth’s grip on your coat tightened impossibly. The child must have sensed your agitation and was starting to nurture his own anger.

The Turk broke the tension with a low chuckle.

“I must apologize,” he uttered before gently pushing you further into the unoccupied area. He made sure to hide the three of you from plain sight behind a wall. After making sure no one was near, the Turk focused his attention back to you. “This would sound presumptuous for me to say, but, Miss _Nomen_ , you are gravely mistaken if you think I have the intention to drag you down.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You sound like a lame liar.”

“I know,” He smirked. “I would find a hard time believing myself if I were you. However, in the end you’ll see me standing on your side. Did you think your effort alone would succeed in causing this much destruction? All five of his labs are demolished beyond repair.”

“The pipes are connected. You said it yourself, how the chain reaction would destroy everything.”

“Yes, and you also said, the probability of my hypothesis being incorrect is just as high as the likelihood of there being a single loose bolt.” He quoted you word by word. The man’s memory was as acute as can be. “Or five.”

“You mean- Did you…?”

“You weren’t the only one waiting to weed him out.” The Turk smiled reassuringly at you. By him, you were sure the man was referring to Hollander. “You just happened to trigger the altercation far sooner than it should have.”

You got tongue tied for a moment. His face was still unmasked, baring the honesty he held in every word.

“Now you have your foot on my neck as well. Go on and testify against me if you’d like.” He smiled again, walking closer as his eyes locked onto yours. He was intent on gaining your trust. “Though I hope you wouldn’t because I won’t. Once everything has settled down, I hope we can start over the right way.”

Your eyes flitted all over his face, searching for any ill intention lurking insidiously. To your dismay, he was completely genuine. His eyelids drooped upon seeing your guards lowered. You knew one shouldn’t easily trust the words of someone as suspicious as the man, but however hard you looked, you couldn’t bring yourself to conclude he was lying.

“I don’t even know your name yet.” You whispered quietly, tempted to step back when he surpassed an arm’s length of gap left between you. The man tilted your chin up, reducing the distance even further. 

“Call me Veld.” His smug smirk was back on those gorgeous lips.

“NO!”

What proximity you previously had with him was broken by an offending hand.

It took three full seconds for you to understand why the so-called Veld was knocked back with a hand covering half of his face. The boy in your arms had punched him on the bridge of his nose. You swore the man must’ve never been so shocked before. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows lifted high, all control he previously held on his composure evaporated completely. A blow to the nose done by a toddler couldn’t be that painful, but then again, it could be different when talking about Sephiroth.

“NO, NO, NO! Don’t touch!” Your little neighbor waved the same fist around, as if wanting nothing more than to deliver more hits.

“Seph! You can’t hit someone like that!” You grabbed the swaying little fist and lowered it.

“He can’t touch!”

“You’re being rude!”

“But-”

“No! I don’t like someone who resorts to violence!” The two of you glared at each other. Sephiroth bit his lower lip under your intense reprimand. He became still as a stone, then those pouty lips trembled before he broke out in a wail.

You instantly panicked, realizing the wrong choice of words you uttered in the heat of the moment.

“No, no, I don’t hate you! I was just saying you shouldn’t do something like that, Seph!” You hugged him tighter while rocking on your feet, hoping the gesture would calm him down.

“ _No- Nomen,_ don’t t- touch,” he hiccuped on your shoulder.

You sighed as you rubbed the boy’s back over and over. Veld had recovered from his shock sometime in between your banter. He had stood back to his full height, smiling at the silliness of the situation. The man came closer to you and the crying boy. Noticing the movement, you threw him a look, daring him to do anything that could worsen the situation.

“Veld, don’t-”

The Turk held his palms up in surrender. “I know. I just want to say sorry to the boy.”

Sephiroth rubbed his tears and snot on your coat. He turned to peer at the man from his shoulder, eyes must be deathly judging from the way Veld took a step back.

“Please forgive me. I admit, I was a bit too forward myself. Thank you for reminding me.”

The little boy _humph_ -ed at him. He repositioned his head back in the crook of your neck then held his arms tight around your shoulder. From the choking hold he had on you, you began to understand why Veld looked as shocked as he did. The strength of the child was extraordinary for his age.

“Let’s just...get back.” You suggested in the awkward stillness that followed.

Veld was more than willing to agree.

The three of you journeyed back to Hojo’s private level in silence. Sephiroth never once loosened his arms even though Veld kept true to his words. The Turk ceased to put his hands on you, yet the little boy was so suspicious that he refused to yield into Eredith’s open arms before he made sure Veld had left you alone.

The Turk had to hide himself first while you settled Sephiroth in his room with Eredith. He made you promise to not let the man touch you again, going as far as agreeing to him claiming you as his, and therefore no one was allowed to take you away. You pretty much indulged his every whims until he was satisfied. Only after a gentle coaxing from his caretaker did he finally allow you to leave without him.

The long sigh that left you afterward must’ve sounded so exhausted that the hiding Turk was able to find you instantly.

He still maintained a proper distance from you, and for that, you were grateful.

“My colleagues are done with their inspection.”

You nodded, feeling yourself incapable of a more receptive response at the moment.

“Miss _Nomen_.”

“Just _Nomen_ is fine.”

“Alright. _Nomen_.”

To hear your name spoken with more familiarity made your chest warm for some reason. You found yourself straightening up in response.

Veld smiled slightly.

“I’ll see you soon.”

He lifted two fingers to his temple and, in a repetition of your first meeting, bade you hasta la vista.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Please welcome Veld to the list of characters! Seph isn't too happy about it, though :/
> 
> Next up! The trials for Mister Hollander.
> 
> Thank you all! Godspeed.


	6. A Spark of Progression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old saying goes, "all change, nothing perishes".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo, boy. Talk about inconsistency.
> 
> How many months has it been since I last updated? Feels like forever.
> 
> Anyway, I want to take this easy since it's been a very long while. Thank you so much for those who wait, I understand those who feel like the wait is too long, at least you enjoyed this story even if only for a short moment. That's enough for me.
> 
> This chapter isn't proofread yet, so I'd like to apologize first for any mistakes that you may find.
> 
> I'll attempt to be more consistent from here onwards. This is my last semester as a student and thus I hope I can make use of the rest of my time to do things I left undone. I hope everyone has been and will be faring well both last year and in this new one.
> 
> Godspeed to all of you, and thank you again, thank you so much :)

**_MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSION IN CENTRAL MIDGAR,_ **

**_SHINRA CO. REMAINS SILENT_ **

_MIDGAR (03/01) — Barely three days into 1984, citizens all over Midgar’s central area, closest to Shinra Tower, were forced to pause their daily activities as waves of mysterious shocks rumbled beneath their feet. Seconds after the confusion passed, emergency alarms blared from within the massive building. Employees of all kinds ran out to find safety. Public security officers were soon forming a blockade around the tower to prevent anyone straying too near. Some witnesses reported wounded staff being transported via ambulance to Shinra private hospital nearby._

_Several hours later, the situation seemed to have been brought under control. The flustered groups of employees were directed back into their respective offices. Security blockade around the Tower had been loosened as officers patrolled to assure citizens that they were safe._

_One of the researchers taken to hospital revealed in an interview, “I don’t know what it actually was. We were working just like any other day when the glass tanks started to hiss. I immediately thought a chemical reaction was happening, so I went to tell my supervisor, but I never made it that far out.” The employee refused to give more details and chose to remain anonymous._

_Information regarding the incident is well-kept within the company. Any attempt to get an explanation has been denied. Until late in the evening, no official announcement has been made by Shinra Co. as well. The absence of clarity left plenty of room to question the company’s credibility, especially in ensuring the safety of its subjects._

_(...)_

* * *

Shinra could already feel the throb in his right temple and he hadn’t even had his first cup of coffee yet. Never a dull day in this household. He should’ve known. Instead of his personal cook diligently preparing for breakfast, he had found one of his Public Security Head’s favored men waiting for him right in the middle of his living room. The young man was as stoic as ever. Nothing in his composure revealed what news he might be bringing, but judging by his mere presence alone, the president knew something was up. Either he was going to say something about the labs or an entirely different but dire situation. Shinra betted on his first cup of caffeine, it wouldn’t be the latter.

“What does Heidegger want?”

The Turk put his right hand over his heart and bowed slightly, “Sir Heidegger has personally sent me here to report.” Shinra heard a rustle as the man revealed a bundle of paper. “And this might be important to note as well, sir President.”

The crease between the president’s eyebrows grew slightly more prominent as he read the bold, capitalized letters unashamedly printed on the middle of the first page. The man’s blue eyes scanned rapidly over paragraphs after paragraphs. A large colorized photo of his employees huddling in fear outside the tower caught his attention. Officers formed a perimeter around the Tower to prevent nosy reporters from storming inside like hungry vultures before dead meat. Another throb instantly marked the possible beginning of a headache. The president had never been fond of these newspersons. They could be useful in painting a good image of the company and so could they do the exact opposite in seconds.

_The absence of clarity left plenty of room to question the company’s credibility, especially in ensuring the safety of its subjects._

What a way to put it into words. He might have to prepare some lawyers after all. He wouldn’t let some random journalist tarnish what he had so meticulously built. If ever, that person would find their arse thrown into jail before they could as much as sputter another word out.

“Who wrote this article?” Shinra asked in passing, heading to the kitchen to find his breakfast.

“Someone named Miriam Cozak.” Veld followed his superior while still maintaining some respectful distance. “Do you want something to be done about it, sir?”

The cook was nowhere to be seen, but the president’s usual set of breakfast had already been prepared on his tabletop. Shinra carelessly threw the newspaper on a chair as he pulled the next one over to sit on. “I don’t know, Veld, what do you think?” He asked with a tone too flat to sound like a genuine question.

Veld immediately straightened himself. “My opinion...sir President?”

“Yes. Tell me.” Despite having his underling trying to communicate with him, Shinra’s attention was not quite focused on him all this while. His hand snaked to the sight of a steaming porcelain cup at the first whiff of coffee. He lifted it close and took a deep breath. Even just the scent of it was enough to kickstart the gears in his brain. He was somewhat sobered. His eyes snapped open a fraction.

“I...think, with all due respect, we should probably take the necessary act—”

“Veld.”

Wondering if he already said something wrong barely a sentence into his explanation, Veld secretly held his breath. “Sir?”

Tension rose like knots pulled tight in the Turk’s chest. Shinra put down his cup with a soft clink, looking quite disappointed. Veld was ready for anything, but then, “Pass me the bourbon,” the president uttered while pointing to a rack behind him. “And get me the glass as well.”

Without hesitation nor question, Veld delivered the requested items and Shinra accepted it, clearly pleased. Their president’s appetite for alcohol was quite infamous within the company. The Turk wouldn’t be surprised if the man suddenly hungered for a shot first thing in the morning. He personally thought it was bizarre. But who was he to say anything, anyway. He was not one to comment on other’s oddity as he, too, possessed some.

Like fancying a clumsy scientist with a knack for getting into trouble.

“So, Veld….”

Almost caught off guard, Veld had to hide his smile with an awkward cough. “Yes, sir?”

After emptying his dose of caffeine into the glass and filling the rest with liqueur, Shinra took a tentative sip, tasting the beverage, and quickly drowned the rest after deciding he liked it. “Continue, please.”

The Turk nodded. “I think we should take the necessary actions to prevent further mistrust spreading among the citizens, like releasing a formal statement to the media, for example.”

It was now the president’s turn to nod contemplatively. He seemed to consider the young man’s words for a while before pouring another portion of alcohol into his glass. “Not bad, Veld. Not bad. Though if I may add my opinion in this?”

Veld tightened his jaws for a fraction of second, feeling slightly mystified to hear Shinra himself asking for consent. A vain show of courtesy, he was sure, but it got him nonetheless. “Of course, sir!”

Shinra’s smile was partly hidden behind the glass filled with amber liquid. “Don’t you know how these people behave, young man? They exist like pesky scavengers trying to gobble down rotten meat. If you don’t chase them out immediately, all that’s left for you will be nothing but dry, cracked bones. You don’t want that, do you?”

“...no, sir.”

“Right. So do what you have to do.” Shinra directed his gaze right into Veld’s. His eyes were colder than ice as he spoke almost an octave lower, “This...Miriam Cozak, tell your colleagues to pay her a visit, will you?”

“What do you require us to do?” If Shinra noticed the tension in his voice, he did nothing.

“Tell her to get a new job or she may _volunteer_ in the Science & Research Division. With all these fiascoes, I’m certain Hojo would be glad to receive the help.”

A silent yet sharp intake of breath filled the young man’s lungs. Veld knew exactly what _volunteering_ in the division meant, it was far from standing by to hand required vials if the professors asked for some. Sadly, it was something far more sinister, a fate even the Turks preferred not to be entangled in. He really ought to convince this lady to find another career path if he wanted to sleep soundly at night.

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect.” With the matter already settled, the president’s gaze turned back to his breakfast, no longer was the icy blue pinning Veld into his place. Shinra took the closest plate and started to cut a kalm fang wurst on it into manageable sizes. He forked a cut with a portion of mashed potato before gracefully taking a bite. “Now tell me what Heidegger wants me to hear so early in the morning.”

Veld bowed his head in compliance, “We’ve done further investigation into sir Hollander’s project. Based on explanations given by the staff at the hospital, we were able to construct a chronology leading up to the explosion. There were 24 trained personnels working closely to the exploding tanks and only 4 — ones working in the fifth lab — managed to escape right before it occurred. They have been taught the emergency protocols in response to possibilities of technical failure, but at the time of the incident, the chain reaction had happened faster than their ability to react.

Some staff mentioned hearing a hiss or seeing bubbles forming within the tank’s liquid medium before pressure built up too high and broke the glass. The substance was not immediately hazardous to human tissue, but contact with oxygen started an exothermic reaction in massive amounts and the release of poisonous gas into open air. Volatile substances nearby were disturbed and in turn reacted as well. All specimens that were stored within the containers died instantly, fortunately the staff were equipped with necessary protection to prevent any lethal injury.

When the commotion receded, we came down to examine the condition. All of the main tanks and several minor containers had been destroyed, but parts of the pipes were completely intact. We found that damage had mostly occurred around areas closest to the terminals. So we focused our attention on them. Bolts were blown off by the initial explosion, allowing more air to reach the liquid medium, and thus accelerating the chain reaction. We’re still unable to find what might have triggered the incident, but judging by how busted the terminals were compared to other parts of the pipelines, we suspect the possibility of technical failure that has been going on for a while, and finally took its toll yesterday.”

“And what is this technical failure?

“The terminals were most probably worn out.”

The president had stopped eating halfway through Veld’s report, but by the time the Turk answered that last question, Shinra was putting his fork and knife back on the table. He left an almost unbearable silence to hang between them, eerily staring into a lavishly decorated wall across the room with blank eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, Veld.” He uttered with yet another flat tone. “I was a machinist before Midgar could even enjoy proper electricity. I am not blind to the mechanics of these instruments. Do you think I’ll foolishly believe your reasoning?”

Veld was unconsciously holding a breath again.

“Do you think I’m supposed to believe _my_ manufactured parts were so easy to _wear out_?” That pair of eyes turned to Veld to pin him back in his place. It felt like a dagger was shot at him. "If that doesn't sound like nonsense, I don't know what is."

There were some easily forgettable things once you get used to something. The rose garden at school was fragrant only at the beginning of spring, two weeks later into the season, Veld had trouble remembering what the scent even smelled like. His neighbor’s dog barked too loud at two in the morning, every single day for a decade he lived in his mother’s house, and when he finally moved out, he started to wonder why 2 AM became too quiet. Sensations rushing through his veins from his first kill receded over his second, third, and fourth. He never felt much, if anything at all, when pulling a trigger from the fifth onward. And the same happened to Shinra. Veld had been too used to having the man as an idle authoritative figure, he became forgetful of exactly how he came to gain that authority.

Behind the enormous success of the company was a master machinist: President Shinra.

The man was in his element. Uncomfortably so, for those who wanted to start their own mind games with him. If Veld didn't thread this one carefully, a single slip could cause him to fall with no way of going backup. He was sure even Heidegger wouldn't be able to help him if it happened.

There was one chance left for Veld to convince Shinra, one chance to not lay waste to something the Turks had planned for months, and for that clumsy researcher — whom he hadn't gotten the chance to ask for a date yet — to remain free.

"Shinra manufactured goods have time and time again be proven supreme, sir President, and that is exactly why I've personally come to report." Said Veld while reaching inside his jacket to retrieve a folded document, praying for his hands and voice not to waver.

* * *

Low whispers buzzed like a colony of stray bees meandering around the meeting hall. A large, oval table lied in the middle of it all, hosting over a dozen attendees. People formed small groups to talk with lowered voices. At the head of each were some of the highest officials of Shinra Company. Scarlett and Heidegger, the head of Advanced Weaponry Division and Public Security Division respectively, were engaged in an almost heated debate while their subordinates looked on or pitched in their thoughts when asked. The former seemed to be persistent in her opinion on something and Heidegger kept denying it, but regarding what might be the topic of their discussion, you were oblivious. They sat across your own group behind the oval table.

Not far from where the two division heads debated was Palmer, the newly promoted head of Space & Aeronautics Division. The man was having some sort of a nervous tick. His subordinates were listening to him, exchanging paperworks, and giving him reports, but Palmer himself looked quite distracted. His eyes kept looking to the sides every five seconds and he would stop talking. When one of his staff called the man, he flinched as if a spider had just fallen on his lap. This group you had a better chance of listening to as they were much closer. Some words you had heard like “rocket” and “exploration” kept getting repeated. One might guess the group were talking about their latest project, but with how much Palmer paused in between sentences, you really couldn’t be sure. It was a feat in itself for his staff members to be able to communicate with him.

The only two groups left are yours and Tuesti’s. So far the latter had been the most quiet and composed. You had seen Germoir somewhere behind Tuesti, cradling a document close to his chest. You had waved and he had waved back, but the conversation within your own small group prevented you from going over to say hi.

“We can propose this matter first, then that one second, and this third. This has the most appeal, so I think the President will favor it.”

“No, no. That one is interesting enough, but do we have what it takes to actually do it? We don’t know, right? Why would we present something we’re uncertain with?”

“This division is currently fucked. I say we should try our best to convince the President that we still have it in ourselves.”

“Have what?”

“....”

“See? You have no idea what you’re aiming for. Don’t go on prancing about without preparations.” Soren, a senior data analyst for Hojo’s other project which you didn’t know much of, responded to the ridiculous suggestion. He was one of the few people your mentor trusted with his many secrets. “Where’s the division head, anyway? He’s your boss. You should know.”

“Well, you don’t know where Hojo is as well, do you? Don’t lie.”

Soren crossed his arms, unable to answer the question, then he turned to you.

Everyone did.

“Um…,” the sudden shift of attention was not at all expected. You had been lounging to the side just like the rest of the staff who were too tired or too disinterested to really listen, peeking at other divisions and inferring assumptions from your observations, like how everyone was a weirdo to a certain degree. Some more obvious than others. Palmer for example. “Sorry, I’m not sure. He said he’d be joining us later.”

Everyone spared another second looking, but if even Hojo’s apprentice herself said she knew nothing about it, they had no other way of knowing either. So they gave up trying to probe anything out of you. They were soon back to debating in circles.

“ _Nomen_.”

“Yes?” You saw Soren inching closer. He must be tired of the pointless arguments as well. The man let out a mighty sigh next to you.

“It’s been some time. How’s Hojo been treating you?”

You gave him a half smile. “He’s still the same.” Not much needed to be said. Everyone who worked under the professor knew his nature well. “How about you?” That was a wrong thing to ask him, you found out late. He frowned deeply and gave you a look that said it all.

“Aw, man…. Don’t even get me started.”

You chuckled. “Been having a rough time?”

“Dude…. These days nothing seems to be going right.” The irony with which he said that first sentence had you sympathizing instantly. “My team’s progress has been delayed for a full two weeks now, Hojo started losing his shit, we need more resources to make it, but now this mess happens. I wonder if there’d be anything left for us after Hollander fixes his labs.”

A smile that had been plastered on your lips faltered for a fraction of second. “That...would certainly be troublesome.”

Maybe it was because of the way you said it, with a heavy feeling pressing down on your chest, that the man next to you never asked what you meant. He nodded faintly despite not completely sure if the both of you were talking about the same thing.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the man opening his mouth to start another conversation, but then the focus in your vision moved to the large doors far behind him. Any controlled commotion died down within seconds after a pair of Turks entered without precedence. Your breath hitched at the sight of the room’s latest occupant — coincidentally also your latest acquaintance.

“Veld…,” you whispered his name, catching the attention of Soren, still close to you.

“You know the Turk?”

The question went past your ears. You were completely absorbed in the sight before you. The coming of the first two Turks was followed by more of the uniformed special officers. They spread in a coordinated movement to guard every corner of the room, especially wherever access was possible through doors. One of them got behind your team, imposing himself much too close to your liking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take a seat. The President is arriving soon.” Without having to see, you knew it was Veld who spoke. You silently circled your group to take the furthest seat from the Turk and closest to Tuesti’s. As you settled down, a familiar feeling of being watched appeared.

Veld had spotted you from across the room and you pretended not to notice.

“This is odd.” You tipped your head to the side, slightly surprised to see Soren had followed suit to sit next to you. He probably didn’t fancy being near a Turk either. “I thought we’re having a general meeting today.”

“Those Turks wouldn’t be here if we were.” Another staff member uttered.

Soren nodded. “Yeah. I wonder if it’s got anything to do with the incident.”

Your mind started to reel. Hojo was missing this morning when you came to meet him, leaving nothing but a message in your PHS.

 _‘Head to the meeting first. I’ll come later._ ’

That was the only thing he said. You did as he told and joined the rest of the staff on the way to the hall, expecting just another start-of-the-year meeting with the president. But then the division head was absent as well. Now the Turks were here. Everybody probably raised the same questions in their minds. Scarlett, Palmer, and the ever-composed Tuesti were checking their surroundings cautiously. Only Heidegger seemed to be perfectly informed of the situation. The man looked menacing and proud with his Turks in proximity.

When President Shinra came, the echo of his rhythmical footsteps entered first. You couldn’t help but look at the door knowing very well you’d meet the full brunt of Veld’s sharp gaze. The man had his stoic mask on. His face showed neither pleasure nor deprecation at your presence. Then the president finally appeared physically. He was as imposing as your memory made him out to be, still the same figure who made you sweat buckets at last year’s meeting. The domineering presence effectively silenced all the others. There was no need to make himself known.

After the president took his seat, surprisingly came the two missing persons your group had been looking for all morning.

Hojo entered first, followed by Hollander and a man whose face you’d never forget.

“That son of a bitch.”

Soren’s head turned slowly towards you. He looked scandalized. “A-are you talking about Hojo?”

You shook your head. “No. That man. He took Seph- the professor’s specimen away without legal permit.”

“But that’s Hollander’s staff member?”

“Yes, I know that damn well.” Something feral gnawed at the back of your throat. The anger from failing to protect someone, a mere child, from those men’s cursed hands, came rolling back in waves. That man and Hollander the bastard would be served justice. Whatever this meeting was supposed to become, you would make sure that agenda was realized today.

Hojo proceeded to walk until he reached an empty chair on your right. He settled himself down next to you, looking no different except for a bruise on his cheek from Hollander’s nasty fist and the askew glasses which you knew didn’t belong to him. For some reason he hadn’t replaced it with one that would fit. The sight was odd enough, especially the dark blue splotch on his face, that all present Research & Science Division members casted a curious glance at him at least once.

“Professor?” You addressed cautiously.

Hojo nudged the glasses with a finger. “Shut up, _Nomen_.”

“What’s going on, sir?”

Realizing his apprentice was not shutting up, he glared at you but answered nonetheless, “Justice will be served today, child. I will make sure of it and _you_ are going to assist me.”

Your eyebrows hiked a centimeter higher. A plethora of things you disagreed with, but this one was different. It was a relief knowing that you weren’t the only one to still be angered by the recent events. “Of course I will.” The determination in your voice surprised not only you, but the professor as well. He gave you a meaningful look that reeked suspiciously of approval.

You had expected Hollander and his staff member to join the rest of the division. But apparently it was to everyone’s best interest that they, unlike Hojo, were brought by the Turks to another end of the table across the president himself. You weren’t sure how you were going to react if he came any closer.

“I gather everyone is here.” President Shinra began. “Pardon us for being late. We will now commence the meeting.”

As if on cue, Veld and his partner closed the main doors discreetly, leaving a fully isolated space with no exit while the rest of the Turks guarded the room like a bunch of cerberuses. The lots were three times as menacing as they usually were.

“Good afternoon, everybody. Thank you for coming. I hope everyone has had the chance to celebrate this new year with family and friends.” The president reached inside his jacket to retrieve a pouch of cigarettes. He lit one with practiced dexterity and was blowing white smoke into the air in no time. Nobody dared to interrupt him even as he stalled midway. The man took a deep breath, gaze locking into a disgruntled Hollander at the far end of the table across him. “It is quite unfortunate that a catastrophe had to mark the beginning of this year. We all surely hoped for something better, but please forgive me, for I have been careless. One of this company’s divisions has been facing an internal conflict that, if wasn’t exposed so abruptly by said disaster, I would probably never know until it’s become too late.” Shinra proceeded to wave his hand at Heidegger, who nodded with an all too pleased smile as he stood up from his chair. “Scarlett, Palmer, Tuesti, you must’ve come here prepared to offer your best, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient a moment longer. Something urgent has come up. Heidegger will inform you of the situation. Please, Heidegger.”

Said man put a hand over his heart and bowed slightly towards the president. His smile vanished into thin air the moment he faced the rest. “As all of you must have noticed, probably rather harshly, something unforeseen in this company has occured. Something abrupt and quite jarring, I must say, barely three days into 1984. We have always been known by clients and associates alike as a trustworthy establishment who’s capable of pushing engineering as we know it to the limits. We built houses and provided electricity in a time when people hardly ever thought about improving their quality of life, and going into our second decade, we’ve come so far, unrivaled. It is, partly and yet also mostly, thanks to our scrupulous work ethic in manufacturing, that Midgar is the way it is today. Then one must think that it’s odd for such a company to suddenly experience a destructive technical negligence within its own headquarters, in a division where such a failure could mean death.”

Heidegger was intently looking into Hollander, as did you noticed, your mentor.

“Research & Science Division, a place where miracles of this company are supposed to happen, under the leadership of Hollander, has turned into an internal battleground.” The Public Security Head continued. “The third of January 1984, five labs exploded, causing 47 specimens to die and 20 staff members injured, with approximate financial loss around 12 million gil, not yet counting the repairments cost. I have personally appointed the Turks to investigate this catastrophe, and what we found was shocking. Terminals that were used to connect pipes and glass containers had been worn out from continuous pressure, and thus after more than a decade, the material broke down which led to the explosions. There is a-”

“Everything wears out eventually, why does this matter so much?” Hollander cut off, his inflection full of challenge.

Heidegger chose to ignore him by continuing where he left off, “There is a very probable reason as to why such error could come to pass: proper maintenance care wasn’t regularly implemented.”

“Nonsense.” Again, the accused spoke without anyone’s request. “Ask, just ask,” he waved his arm towards where the rest of his staff members were sitting. “My subordinates are over there. They’ll tell you if I did it or not.”

Nervous looks were exchanged between Hollander’s team. One of them, presumably the leader, timidly turned to the president himself to ask for permission. Shinra was leaning back in his chair, dropping burnt ashes onto a golden lacquered ashtray. “Tell us,” he’d said without an ounce of interest.

The staff member bowed his head slightly, “Yes, sir. It’s true, we’ve always performed maintenance for all of the equipment annually.”

“You see, Heidegger? I ain’t lying. There’s no way those things would explode just like that! I told you time and time again, those freaks had something to do with it!” Hollander got up from his seat to point at you and Hojo. The action had you squirming slightly for, one, contrary to what people were made to believe, Hollander was hitting too close to home. And two, being subjected to such attention was generally something you’d very much like to avoid. “My labs were destroyed right after I rejected his proposal, the goddamned timing was too good!”

The next thing you hated was the hanging silence. Everyone in the room had done exactly what you hoped they wouldn’t. Germoir looked at you with wide eyes reflecting curiosity, disbelief, and confusion. Soren did the same from your left while Scarlett watched in amused attentiveness the same way one would watch conflicts within a movie. It worked to your advantage that Heidegger was far from impressed. Before you could break out in cold sweat, he regained control of the situation. With a wave of a hand, a Turk behind Hollander moved forward to force the man to sit back down.

“Let me finish, Hollander.” Compared to President Shinra, Heidegger possessed different qualities that made him look intimidating in his own way, though not as domineering. But the six foot bearded male was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Hollander still had the spine to challenge his authority by sending daggers through his glares, but he had stopped spouting words. It was all the bearded man needed.

Assured that he’d be able to continue uninterrupted, Heidegger nodded to Veld, who in turn gave to him a neatly folded document from inside his jacket. “At first, we were almost satisfied with that answer, but negligence to do maintenance was not the problem. It was a huge possible cause, if one were to ignore the fact that Shinra manufactured materials would last centuries even without proper care. The only possibility left led us to this,” Heidegger laid out the papers he had received for anyone to see. “The numbers you see here are transaction details dating back to the start of this company. They are Research & Science Division’s spending over the years, and as recorded, purchases were made with company funding to build 5 labs. Interesting to note, these serial numbers are unique to each part. Lab equipment was marked with a special series of codes that are saved in our now digitized database, which...oddly, does not match with what lies in those supposed labs.”

Now all eyes were turned away from you, to Hollander, whose face was turning redder by the second.

“Care to, explain?” Heidegger enquired.

Your eyes had widened slightly as gears turned in your head. You never knew much about the mechanisms of engineering within the company, Hojo had never told you anything either because there hadn’t been the need to. The construction of Midgar happened long before you even thought of ever leaving your hometown, so the Midgar you knew was the way it was today, with Shinra Tower already soaring in the middle of it. You had never witnessed the process which involved the assembly of manufactured goods.

“What’s wrong, Hollander? You were nothing short of loquacious earlier.”

“Those labs were built when Professor Gast Faremis was the division head,” Hollander countered hurriedly. “I know nothing about it.”

“Such an interesting claim, because,” Heidegger flipped the papers, revealing another page marked with red circles and a stamp. “The one who supervised the constructions was a, at the time, research associate named Hollander.”

Hollander’s back was straight as a rod at this moment. He gritted his teeth so hard the muscles on his jaws looked as if they were ready to snap.

“The materials were replaced with cheaper ones, imitations that have less than half the quality of ours. That raised a question: where did the rest of the money go?”

Had this been a coincidence or carefully planned, it all seemed too good to be true. Such data had to be meticulously searched for any of them to unearth it. Who else could operate with this type of efficacy but the Turks. Only recently did you know of their involvement, though you had absolutely no idea why or how far. What Veld revealed to you on your second encounter was much too obscure. Said man was standing behind Heidegger, the unreadable mask prevented you from picking up any clue on what kind of trick they had prepared up their sleeves. The prickle of your eyes made him return the gaze. With the entirety of your skepticism conveyed through your expression, hopefully he got your point.

Heidegger was done waiting for an answer. He searched for cues from the president.

“Do you have any defense?” Shinra filled in the silence, lazily poised as he watched with a mild composure. “Did you think because you’ve made it through for a decade, you’d never eventually be caught? Or perhaps the reason you fought tooth and nail to be the division head was because of this, to make sure the blot would stay hidden, under your control?”

Hollander was tongue tied. He knew there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make him sound more like a fool.

“I’ve had enough.” The president nodded his head, giving the permission for the Turks to put Hollander in a shackle, but the man was refusing to go down without a fight.

“I wasn’t alone!”

What unfolded next was something of a kind. There were faces that turned pale quicker than your eyes could blink. Scarlett began to laugh with her hand coming up to cover her perfect teeth. As for Heidegger, the all too pleased smile was back on his face. Even Shinra seemed to be wickedly delighted by the turn of events.

Hollander jerked one arm off of the Turk’s hold. He frantically called and pointed to people all around the table, ratting out his own partners in crime. Unsurprisingly, a lot of those that were called came from the Research & Science Division. Some of them you knew. They all belonged to Hollander’s crew, most were the senior members who’d worked with him from the beginning of their careers. An older lady stood so unceremoniously until her chair fell before she began cursing back at Hollander. The rest were not so eloquent. They were either shocked still, trying to evade capture in vain, or nursing the beginning of a headache.

In the end, after Hollander had stopped calling names and was panting in anger, there were eight people in total. Two of them were not present within the room, which left six — four from Hollander’s and two personnel, one of each Heidegger’s and, quite shockingly, Tuesti’s. Members of the Turks swiftly gathered the ones that had been ratted out. Shinra was not in a hurry to capture the other two currently not present. The president focused on those who were already gathered. He snubbed his cigarette and for probably the first time today, was looking interested in anything at all.

“Your predictability has never ceased to amaze me. I must say thank you, Hollander, you just saved us the time to hunt down these pests.” Shinra graced everyone with something so rarely heard, that all heads turned to him almost in awe as he chuckled gleefully. “Who carries the notes? Ah, that’s right, Veld. Read it, please.”

The Turk nodded at the order. He pulled out another piece of paper from the inside of his jacket. You silently wondered how many things he could fit in there.

“Dr. Hollander, there has been an accumulation of reports that is filed against you throughout the years. First of all, you have liberally exploited company funds for your own interests. This alone could be punished by termination of employment and a fine of at least 10 million gil. But there have also been complaints regarding mistreatment of employees, plagiarism, unethical testing on human subjects, malpractice, insubordination to direct orders, evasion of contract, invasion of privacy, scamming, and harassment. Not all of the mentioned charges have been confirmed. Further investigation will be carried by the court, as they will also decide on your penalty based on the severity of your actions.” After reading the long list of misconduct, Veld turned to the rest of the audience, “Does anyone have something to express before we begin the transfer to court?”

Almost immediately, Hojo stood up. “I’m afraid what you mentioned barely covered half of this imbecile’s offense.” The professor announced his distaste, earning a loud curse from his nemesis.

“To hell with your arse, Hojo!”

“Recently, that man has barged in on my private labs, doing an unauthorized suspension of my project, and confiscated my prized specimen with his filthy hands.”

“Hah! Your hands are as dirty as mine!” Hollander goaded your mentor. “Stop acting so saintly, as if you don’t torture your own offspring every single day!”

“That is not true!” You reflexively stood by the professor. “I am the one who oversees him every single day and I can testify that we would never do anything to hinder the child’s development, let alone subject him to heinous treatments! You, on the other hand,” your finger pointed towards Hollander and the subordinate who took Sephiroth away, “You took him by force even when I resolutely forbade it, struck me unconscious, and put him in the same room with failed chimeras!”

A series of gasps was heard like tumbling dominoes. Soren, one of the people who had their jaw dropping, muttered a curse under his breath, trying to process everything at once.

“Shut up, dog. Who would even believe you?” Hollander snarled while his subordinate looked like he was ready to faint.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” another voice, a much calmer one, joined in. “I can testify on her behalf, that yes, Dr. Hollander and his accomplices did put a two-year-old in a room full of chimeras.”

It was Veld who rose to your defense out of nowhere. His tone was so steadfast that nobody doubted the truth behind his words. He turned to you. Both your eyes locked for a couple of seconds and in that fleeting moment, the Turk sent you a reassuring nod. You could almost imagine him saying, _“I got this.”_

“I will add the details of your report for the court, professor.” Veld said to your mentor. “Is there anyone else?” He scanned the entirety of the room. Low murmurs were exchanged between the remaining staff members who were lucky not to be involved. They looked around as well, wondering who would be the next person to reveal Hollander’s wrongdoing, but no one stepped forward to answer.

“That ends it, then. Meeting adjourned.” Shinra said with finality. “I have some pests to exterminate first, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’ll understand.” He nodded to Heidegger as he left the room, followed by Veld and his partner. The former took a time to send you an almost unnoticeable smile before he, too, made an exit.

Eight people were escorted out — Hollander and the man who came with him, four staff members of the Research & Science Division, and lastly two staff members belonging to Public Security and Urban Planning. Everything was seemingly running without a hitch until the rest of the occupants watched in both horror and astonishment as Hollander managed to escape a Turk’s hold. He jumped onto the table, then with a savage roar, came charging straight to where you and Hojo sat.

“ _Nomen!_ ” Somewhere to your left, Soren was calling.

You jerked yourself away, expecting your mentor to do the same, but only after putting a safe distance did you realize he wasn’t. Hojo stood with a deranged grin on his face, as if unbothered when the tip of Hollander’s sole connected with his nose. There was a crunch as his head snapped to the side.

“Professor!” You rushed back to your mentor. Several Turks were struggling to drag Hollander away. He was forcefully pulled to the ground, pinned, and handcuffed.

“Fuck you all! FUCK!” One of the Turks had had enough of the obscenity. He retrieved one of the notes lying around on the ground to stuff it into Hollander’s mouth, effectively muffling him. It took three people to subdue him. He was refusing to stand up and had to be dragged across the floor with legs flailing around, knocking over chairs and even one of Palmer’s subordinates who stood far too close. The room was soon filled with sounds of Hollander’s muffled yells, falling objects, and the scratching of rubber on linoleum.

You reached for Hojo who was perched on the table. Blood was dripping from his nose, probably broken judging from how loud it sounded when Hollander had kicked him. The professor’s mouth was agape slightly to accommodate breathing.

“Sir, are you-”

The question never got delivered. Before you could begin to worry for your mentor’s wellbeing, he was already laughing maniacally at the sight of his nemesis’ disgrace. The dark eyes behind his askew pair of glasses were glittering with something detrimental in nature. You just had to take a step back.

Everyone who witnessed it did.

It got you thinking, whether the man you helped condemn was the saner of the two, after all.

* * *

**_EXPLOSION IN SHINRA LABS,_**

**_ESTIMATED DAMAGE EXCEEDS 10 MILLION_ **

_MIDGAR (11/01) — On the third of January this year, Midgar was shocked by the rumbles coming from below the ground. Shinra Tower had their employees evacuating for safety after a series of explosions brought about panic and chaos. Up to 20 staff members, all from the company’s Research & Science Division, were injured and had to be transported to Shinra’s private hospital nearby. The incident also took its toll on 47 of their research specimens, all of which were unsalvageable. _

_According to Hojo, current head of Shinra’s Research & Science Division, the explosion was caused purely by human error. At least eight staff members will be prosecuted in the upcoming trial. The company now proceeds to reorganize the structure of their office, reforming rules regarding employment, work ethic, and most importantly, safety protocols. The company has lost over 10 million gil in estimate over damage to property and repairment cost. _

_The company has taken preventive measures so that no repeat of such an incident ever happens. Starting this year, recruitment programs will be supervised directly by each division to ascertain the quality of their input. Admission via organization or institute recommendation is no longer permitted. Every candidate must go through a series of tests provided by the division they apply for. Shinra Co. has stated their future plans for the Mako Energy expedition towards the north to east, and it will be crucial for them to get the best out of young recruits._

_(...)_

* * *

News traveled fast. No matter where one stood at the time, hardworking reporters spread tidings of human affairs faster than a wildfire. They dared risk angering the powerhouses of the world and often in effect, risking their own lives, if it meant getting the truth into the public eyes. Some were convoluted with opinionated views that distorted perspectives, but nonetheless, these people were the basis of change. Revolutions were parallel to the formations of ideas, and the ones most responsible for uniting the people were those who sniffed information like a bloodhound.

Miriam Cozak.

Only one insignificant name among others, thrown into a ditch by the whim of a mega corporation’s sovereign. Veld often wondered, as his eyes wandered to the freshly pressed pages of newspapers, whether today would be the day that same fate befall other insignificant names. Another termination, another suffering. The smart ones would be lucky to start another life on the other side of the city, but the stubborn ones usually chose to ignore the warning, kept pushing, and got eliminated at the end.

The Turk was grateful Cozak knew better than to defy Shinra. He hated having civilian blood on his hands the most.

“Veld?”

The man shifted his attention away from the headline of today’s evening papers. “Pardon me, were you saying something?”

Midgar was reaching the peak of its winter. There had been no sign of snow, not in more than half a century, but the air was still cold enough to numb the tip of your fingers, and the coffee in your hand was beginning to cool. You were losing warmth fast.

“Do you want to buy one?”

It took several seconds for the Turk to realize what you were referring to. “No. I was just intrigued for a moment.” He finally resumed walking to catch up to you, immediately catching a glimpse of your shivering lips. “Oh dear, are you cold?”

Sniffling, you peered curiously to the stack of papers that had caught Veld’s attention. “I don’t mind if you want to get it. I’ll wait.”

“No, no. I’ve kept you waiting long enough.” He rose an arm to your back, urging you to move without his palm ever touching. But his warmth was palpable.

The two of you walked side by side amidst the busy street of Midgar’s sixth sector. Your breath turned into hazy fumes that were blown by the wind as soon as it reached open air. Nighttime was coming soon. You could see the telltale beginning of a full moon above, its radiance only rivaled by the blazing lights of Shinra’s reactor.

Your ears were buzzing with the sound of life. Not all of them were pleasant to hear. The sound of hurried footsteps, blaring horns, and passing conversations. They could become suffocating at times, but tonight you found yourself enjoying it quite immensely. It was a shame the lull had to be muffled as soon as you stepped inside a paneled wooden door. The raucous noises were exchanged with the sound of a chime.

An old lady welcomed you and your companion with a smile that instantly warmed your insides. You never got to remember each other’s names, she tended to forget it right after she asked, but the elder recognized you whenever you came to visit.

“What a handsome young man,” she greeted Veld, the corners of her eyes wrinkled like a prune.

The Turk, of course, ever the gentleman, bowed to her height and sent a charming smile. “And you, such a gorgeous lady.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the flirtatious bastard. Anytime, anywhere, that mouth would spill praises as smooth as peanut butter. You were personally struggling not to let it get the best of you.

Ignoring the pair making another round of frivolous talk, mostly flattery, you traipsed further into the building, eager to get the tip of your nose to heat up. You picked a table to put down your untouched cup of coffee. The scarf and outer coat had to go before you could allow yourself the luxury of a crackling fireplace.

“There you are.” Veld suddenly appeared as you were folding the garment.

“That was fast.”

The man chuckled. He followed you, stripping himself of his winter coat. “Well, I don’t want to waste time when I’m with you.”

You stared at him with a deadpan. “You think you’re so smooth, don’t you, Veld?” It was said without a hint of malice, just annoyance.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He said right next to your ear, again, never touching. And as you were stunned still, spine tingling with an inexplicable sensation, he snatched your neatly folded coat and scarf, carrying it in one arm. “There, now you can browse freely.”

The apple of your cheeks heated up. Veld’s smug smirk was all it took to realize you were blushing. Your cup of coffee, now tepid, had been left forgotten. You hurriedly walked away to where the towering shelves of books were standing. You even forgot to warm up the tip of your nose before carrying on.

The night continued amicably between the two of you. Veld were observing the place as you scanned through weathered spines of old tomes, occasionally pulling one or two out of the row. Biology, mako, the unending stream of life, regeneration, you looked at everything. It was the first night of the week when you were finally able to free yourself from the politics of your division. Hojo was recently promoted to replace Hollander, and with it came the bustling change. 

You no longer dwelled within your mentor’s private labs. You and your little neighbor were provided a much better accommodation in the upper level of the facility. A window was still regrettably missing on the wall of your apartment, but at least the halls of your office were much brighter now. What gladdened you most were people. If before the normal faces were either Eredith, Hojo’s eternal frown, or Sephiroth, from the day onward, you would see Soren and other colleagues more frequently due to the fact that your mentor had become the head of a division. You were his apprentice, an assistant, where he moved was where you’d find yourself heading. Your assigned project was still running full speed. You still saw Sephiroth every single day, and for it you were glad, but with the raise of wage already signed, meant an additional workload would also come.

Juggling between handling your mentor’s main project, a new one, and your own research would definitely wear you out. You had to carefully maintain the balance. Moments like these would become crucial in keeping yourself sane. You weren’t usually one who was easily swayed by a man’s charm, but the stress from facing the sudden change urged you to get yourself away. Desperately.

Who knew, maybe this would eventually turn to something genuine.

“Aren’t you bored?”

Veld looked at you, looking perplexed. “Why would I be?”

You hauled two books of your choice onto a table, examining the contents with care. “You know, people don’t usually go to a bookstore for a date.”

The man pulled a chair to sit near you. He was watching your every movement the same way your eyes scanned over every letter. “True. But people don’t usually choose a Shinra scientist for a date, either.”

A chuckle escaped you. “Was that a compliment or an insult, I have utterly no idea.”

“It was neither, I was merely stating facts,” he smiled, pleased to see his companion entertained. “We’re both busy anyway. With the company as it is, there’s little time for frolicking around.”

“You count this as _frolicking_?”

“With you? Why, of course.”

“Stop it, Veld,” a smile on your face betrayed your own words.

“I must have said it before, but you look good when you smile, I’d like to see more of that in the future.”

“You speak as if I’ve already agreed to future invitations.” There was a challenge in your voice. The Turk grinned as he leaned forward in his chair, putting a hand over the page you were currently examining. You had no choice but to look at him.

The man’s dark eyes pierced into you. He looked as composed as ever, but somewhere behind the almost carefree grin, there was uncertainty. “Will you?”

In all honesty, you were reluctant to accept anyone at the moment. Your life was going nowhere but up albeit not smoothly. You weren’t sure if this was the right time to start such a relationship with someone else.

“I don’t know, maybe if you could keep me interested,” you answered slyly. It was the best you could offer, but apparently Veld thought it was more than enough. His grin bloomed wider.

“Then I’ll have to work hard.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“How have you been, anyway? I haven’t had the chance to ask.” He tactfully diverted the conversation. The grin had turned into something tamer, an offer of comfort.

You took your time closing one of the books and opening another. It was only by keeping busy could you stop yourself from embarrassing yourself every time the man exhibited one of his many allure. “Quite hectic, I must say, although no less happy.”

“Is that so? How’s the new division head?”

The new division head. He was talking about Hojo. Unconsciously, your mind went back to that moment only days ago, when he laughed in glee in front of Hollander’s adversity, watched by the entire meeting attendants. You shook your head to drive the thought away. “He’s still the same lunatic as he always is. Why?”

“Just curious. I wonder if things are going to go differently.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence filled with the sound of rustling paper.

“What about you, how’s work?”

Veld seemed somewhat delighted you had taken the initiative to ask him anything at all. “Same old Heidegger, same old Shinra. Same old.”

“Meaning more secret missions and rumbling and tumbling around in the dark.”

The Turk laughed. It was surprisingly pleasant to your ears. “Is that what you think us Turks do?”

“I met you literally someplace dark. You keep secrets when I ask you things. You’re a _Turk_. What else should I expect?”

“Alright, if you want to put it that way,” he put his hands up in surrender.

“It’s not only me, you know, most people have this assumption about the Turks. You guys are seen as the equivalent of intrigue and espionage.”

“It’s not entirely wrong,” he supplied, still amused. “But you should know we also have rather interesting assumptions about scientists, especially ones that work for Shinra.”

“Oh?” You just had to sit down for this one. It was too interesting to pass. “Tell me.”

“Well, first of all,” the man paused for a second, trying to hold back his laughter. “We assume all of you are like Hojo: a bunch of lunatics.”

That one you already knew and had become so used to hearing it was impossible to take offense. “What else?”

“Hm…,” Veld thought hard. “Ah, we also assume that you have a journal for everything. You know, a stereotype for nerds. But, please, don’t take it personally.”

“...I don’t know about my friends, but I usually write them for research purposes only.”

The Turk seemed rather surprised. “You don’t write a day to day journal?”

“Well, do you?”

“No. But with how interesting your work is, it can be a waste not to.”

You snorted. “I want to say, ‘same goes for you’, but I know nothing of it.”

Maybe it was the flickering shadows from the fireplace that danced on his face, you saw his smile slowly fall, at least for a fleeting moment. You didn’t have it in you to ask.

“Believe me, if ever given the choice, I’d rather be you.”

Any conversation regarding his profession stopped there.

Maybe when the time was right you’d come to know the reason behind that somber slip up you rarely saw on him. Or maybe, you’d come to know whether you’d want to find out at all. Only time would reveal the complexity and depths of the other. All you had to do was wait.

You opted to spend the rest of your night together talking about menial things, topics that brought tranquility to the air between him and you. It was all in all, still a peculiar choice of setting for something he called a date. Barely anything loverlike was done. There were flirtatious attempts made here and there, all of them quite one-sidedly made by Veld. That was all about it. Thus the stagnancy of this newly budding relation. The night was more a night spent between two companions. Denying how much you enjoyed the company would be a shameful lie.

By the time the clock struck ten in the evening, you were stepping back out into the cold. Veld accompanied your return to the tower where reality awaited. The man left without much said but a silent promise to pester you again in the future. The last you saw of him, he didn’t head towards where the Turks’ residential facility would be. You were left to speculate if he was off to carry out another clandestine business.

With a newly bought empty book clutched tightly in an arm, you turned in for the night. Probably it’d be a good time to start writing that journal your companion had mentioned in passing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um.... Veld x Reader heavy-ish here? Sorry, you'll have to bear with it until Sephiroth comes of age (which is only 2-3 chapters away, by the way).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Have a good day!


	7. To Inscribe in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol. Reader's got a mild case of writer's block. Please forgive poor reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHA! I've managed to update within less than five months! It's still slow, but at least I'm faster than a snail now.
> 
> Thank you for your willingness to wait, your willingness to read, or your willingness to comment or simply leave kudos, it's greatly appreciated :)
> 
> This is *cough* not yet proofread *cough*, so sorry for any mistake or weirdness you'll probably find.
> 
> Stay healthy, everyone!

Up where no one thought of finding a person to be perched like roosting birds, midnight wind was howling past the interstices of steel and concrete opulence. The air had become warmer with the passing of winter. The suffocating stench of industrial waste mingled along the freshening aroma of spring. Although the signs were slight and elusive, they arrived inevitably with the shifting of the stars westward, opening the curtain to a horizon splattered with constellations of the new season.

Your eyes wandered just as your mind strayed. Before you laid the vastness of a different kind of ocean. It was not the kind of void where liquid waves raced to scrape sands off of the shore, where an abundance of nature’s wonders flourished beneath its surface, nor where the obstinate sailed head to head with a tempest. That was something of a world away. But if one procured the patience to find strings of analogy, Midgar could be seen as the ocean where instead of land, human spirit eroded away, instead of Gaia’s miracles, the corrupt burgeoned, and the headstrong fought not a tempest of wild winds and dark skies, but monopoly or injustice, or anything that sprouted in between.

Midgar was a city of toil. Superfluity was a beauty only in the eyes of its beholders, as was the glimmer of the metropolis. The seemingly unending web of pavements were crowded by those whose opinion on the matter differed. They would, if asked, either agree or dissent when accused of closeted avarice. The irony of their denial betrayed the effort to mask their failure of accomplishing dreams so laboriously chased in the long years of their stay. Even the changing of seasons did nothing to assuage their bitterness. Unlike the most triumphant of the settlers, they looked at the coming of spring with prejudice against change. Yet they still welcomed it grudgingly.

That was where the true beauty lied: in perseverance.

A slanted smirk, its message a semblance of frustration, appeared on your lips. A book of sketches and multiple ink scratches was perched on your lap. One pen with a missing lid laid forgotten in the book’s gutter. You had given up trying to conjure a single word appropriate to fill the first of the empty pages. Your mind kept straying to thoughts of melancholic nuances, in your bedroom, in your workroom, even up here, atop a skyscraper that oversaw the whole city, it ran untamed. Any effort to catch a single phrase was futile. Despite thousands of solid concepts already maturing inside your head, your usually agile hand failed to deliver. For a full month, from the end of winter to the dawn of the next season, your journal was still pristine from any log. Except for half-hearted chocobo sketches here and there.

_ “So you were considering my suggestion, after all?” Veld had asked when he pestered you in one of the rendezvous stolen between lunch breaks. “What do you want to write?” _

_ You had taken your time to think about it in earnest, but the best answer you could come up with was, “I don’t know.” _

And so it was, until this very day, you still didn’t know what ought to be written in a supposedly plain day-to-day journal. So much for being a person who wrote it for a living. To your defense, though, a research journal and this casual form of writing differed much. The former didn’t require you to assess your own feelings or reflect on menial actions you had done throughout the day, it was done professionally, with calculated thoughts based on preconceived notions generally accepted to be true. A paradigm, a theory, a law.

So what were the rules to writing your daily routine? To express your feelings and thoughts? None. Either because you hadn’t found it or there were no supposed rules from the beginning. It confused you.

“Oh, Shiva.” Maybe you’d been thinking too much. Maybe you should’ve freed your hand from logical confines when you write. Maybe you would do just that, next time. But tonight, you had to be content with another failed attempt.

At least the view wasn’t so bad.

Hours ticked by with isolation in the open space. You let your mind wander aimlessly while keeping vigil above the distant bustles of the city. The houses of the elites looked tiny from such a distance, people were nothing but slowly moving dots in an urban maze, and to them, you were surely also nothing but an insignificance.

You swung your legs that hung on the precipice, occasionally looking down and immediately got hit by a mild adrenaline strike. Being in this level of elevation, if you were to take a misstep, that’d be the end of your promising career in the pursuit of knowledge. When you sought isolation where neither Veld nor Hojo would bother you, initially the roof didn’t come to mind. An empty hall intended to host major parties became your first destination. The space was near flawless to close oneself off from the rest of the world. It was wide and quiet. No one went there when no event was being planned. You could even sleep there for days and not a soul would have noticed. If it weren’t for the fact that everything was too tranquil, you’d have considered more of it.

Up here, where only maintenance workers visited twice a year, was perfect. Solitude was obtainable without having to be trapped in deafening silence. Isolation was definite without the cage of four walls and a ceiling. Lately you’d unconsciously sought open spaces without a thought. It was too early to call it a phobia. A seed of fear was there, yes, although it wasn’t crippling to the point where you’d panic at the first sight of zero escape. There’s a possibility of this growing fear wilting before it could even sprout. So you gave little thought.

A gust blew from the distance, carrying with it particles of dust and scents of the city. You had to shield your eyes. Your journal was suffering from the force of it. The pages fluttered open, causing the lidless pen to get thrown off onto the concrete. It was when you got up to prevent the mess going any further that you noticed a company.

You froze at the sight of another pair of eyes behind the gap of a cupola.

Protected by an open vent behind worn trellis that hung miserably from a single bolt left, it was observing your two legged form. Its eyes opened wide, unblinking, akin to a mounted taxidermy belonging to a zoological exhibit.

“Hello, there,” you muttered, careful to keep your voice as unthreatening as possible.

Its head bobbed in tandem with you. There was a flap of feathers, a haunting hoot, followed by a staccato of movements before a majestic eagle-owl spread its wings to scare off the foreign intruder. You took a step back in honor of its desire for seclusion. The open pages of your book became forgotten as the wind stirred it further away. Your attention was already caught. The greenish gleam of the city light lit its eyes as if on fire. It was truly captivating.

It took another flurry of feathers with a warning hoot for a lump to be revealed. Behind the mother bird was a nest made of torn linens instead of straws and twigs of a fir tree. Fiercely protected by the raptor, there were two ovate objects unmistakable as its future progenies. They were shielded from the wind by the unintended shelter the mother had made a home in — another sign of spring that had been hidden from naked eyes. You were blessed to have found it in the very center of a city so barren, even Minerva herself would surely condemn it.

Sadly, the magic lasted only for so long. You were forced to leave as the mother’s patience grew thin. She jumped off to the ledge of the cupola and screamed at you. The message was too transparent to miss. The intruder had to go or she’d shred her with talons nearly as wide as an open palm. The wings once again expanded with grace. Each flap showcased the raw power beneath her gown of feathers. Your stay was overdue.

You took another second to marvel at the sight, committing everything into memory, before hurriedly snatching your journal and left through a ladder after failing to find your pen in the haste. It didn’t matter. You had made a promise to come back in the near future. There was no way you’d skip the opportunity to witness the development of this phenomenon. If you hadn’t known what to write down when you climbed up there, subsequent to the curious encounter, you definitely got a brilliant idea.

Your journey to the floor below was accompanied by a persistent dulcet grin. Adrenaline plus giddiness forced you to pause as soon as your feet touched the ground. You lowered your head to the same height as your waist, willing the blood to circulate. Your heart was beating fast, your chest slightly heaving. At first you thought nothing of it, still caught with the magic of the previous moment, but a relatively violent fit of cough finally erased any trace of cheerfulness from your face. Your diaphragm and pectorals alike tightened as your lungs inhaled and expelled air in a broken rhythm. The pain lasted for some of the longest seconds in your life. You’d been doubled over on the floor, with hands clawing at the front of your own shirt, when as swift as it had come, the coughing stopped to leave silence filled with the sound of ragged breathing.

No one had been there to witness the confusing ordeal. No one could clarify whether the ache was real or a mere phantom sensation. You considered alerting somebody, anybody, using your PHS in fear of the unexpected coming back. But apparently it had truly left. There was no more pain in your core, just a heaviness that made it harder to breathe air. Supposedly nothing that a quick rest couldn’t fix. So you leaned on the wall and stretched out your legs, catching a much needed breath while pondering what had actually transpired.

A repeated countdown from ten to zero helped. You were calm by the fourth repetition, oxygen was flowing with ease through your once constricted throat. One last gulp, and you were back on your feet. The tips of your fingers were pale and tingling as blood thrummed back to every end of your limb. You stared at your reflection on a metallic electrical panel nearby. Even through the distorted image, perplexity was glaringly apparent.

The next logical action was to test your stability by taking a step, then clenching and unclenching your palms. Nothing amiss. It was as if the fit had never occurred in the first place. The absurdity of it all was too inexplicable. You gave up trying to connect dots soon and took your journal, which again, had been laid abandoned. You kept checking your breathing and pausing on the way back, afraid that physical exertion would cause a relapse. It was fortunate that such a painstaking recurrence never happened. Halfway through the corridors, your concern had evaporated completely, in its place was the awe-filled recollection of your discovery at the roof of the skyscraper.

* * *

“Aww, you’re such a cutie! Do you want candy? I got banoffee taffy.”

“Look at your eyes! They’re the most gorgeous pair of green!”

“I have books, too. I heard you like to read?”

“Oh, boy, your cheeks are so squishy!”

“Is he really the professor’s son?”

Today was the first time in his two — he’d beg to differ,  _ almost three! _ — years of life for little Sephiroth to properly explore the walls beyond his nursery. Ever since his father climbed up the company ladder and got promoted to a division head, aplenty had to change. The professor was immediately swarmed with meetings and conferences. Adjustments were made in bulk to ensure Hollander’s legacy would be transformed into something of the professor’s own tastes. Several employees had to resign, several were kicked out. The former mainly due to their inability to keep up with Hojo’s standard. Or attitude. Whichever they deemed more severe.

In a nutshell, in a very, very self-centered perspective, the promotion of your mentor meant you went from working your ass off to full on busting it. Particularly for the first couple of weeks. It didn’t mean you were the only one affected by it, but no one would blame you if you complained either.

“Aww, he’s shy….”

A chokehold around your neck almost had you sputtering. Sephiroth was lodging his face in your shoulder, shaking his head furiously when one of your colleagues offered to carry him. The boy was surprisingly reserved in front of others compared to how quick he had opened up to you before. His behavior only goaded your endeared coworkers to try harder at getting his attention. You laughed awkwardly when a particularly stubborn lady poked his stomach and he lashed out with the same ferocity of a wolf pup.

“No, no, Sephiroth, what did I say about hitting people?” You held his flailing fist back down.

The boy was putting up his fiercest snarl, thinking it would deter anyone who dared to cross him again, but it proved to elicit the exact opposite reaction. The room was soon filled with disgustingly sweet coos and ‘awws’. His eyes widened at their response. He was totally baffled by this new group of admirers, probably going through a mile and back in his head, then decidedly branding them as a bunch of idiots.

Sephiroth quickly went back to hiding his face in the collar of your shirt. You took that as a sign to wedge through the crowd. “Say bye bye. Little Seph has to go!” You announced, more to the adults than to the one clinging to your neck. Escape was manageable with great effort. Multiple staff members, mostly female, competed to get a last look. It was understandable how adorable this child was. People would probably move heaven and earth for him.

You knew you would.

“Barely three and already a charmer, aren’t you?” Although the child must not have understood it completely, the remark still earned you a sour gaze in return.

“Why did we have to move?” He asked petulantly when you’d reached somewhere quiet.

“Hmm? You mean up here?”

He fiddled with the first button of your shirt, eyes cast downward instead of meeting yours.

Noticing his hesitation, you paused to reposition him in your arms, craning your neck slightly to meet his line of sight. “Sephiroth?”

The boy’s fingers froze for a moment before he crashed his face into the croon of your neck again. He was averse to seeing you for some reason.

“What’s wrong?” However casual you tried to sound, worry was inevitably leaking into your voice. You’d take it as another infantile episode if he hadn’t been like this for some time. It had been quite difficult to notice at first glance. The indications were faint and easy to miss — reluctance to let you go beyond the door of his nursery, a tighter grasp on the collar of your coat, reserved acts or escalating aggression when strangers came into proximity. He was slowly drawing in on himself and you hadn’t figured out how to help.

With a most gentle tone, you tried again, “You can tell me anything, I promise I won’t be mad.” You hugged him to your chest while nuzzling the soft bundle of silvery hair, providing him a sense and promise of security. Your palm moved for a back rub. He was weak to it. Once exposed to the gesture, he’d almost always instantly relax at your touch. You were glad the dirty trick still paid off, for he began to drop his guards.

“I won’t tell your father.” That was the last nudge he needed to finally grace you with a response.

But he still had to be sure, “What about Edith?”

“What about her?”

“Will you tell?”

“Um…. Do you want me to?”

“No!”

You couldn’t help the chuckle. “Then I won’t.”

To your relief, a sliver of his fierceness was back, reflected in his glare. “Really?”

“Of course.”

The scrutiny lasted a tad moment. One could witness the exact second he made his decision from how the last drop of mistrust left those emerald eyes. He chose to take a chance by spilling his secret, becoming vulnerable in ways his young brain couldn’t understand.

“I don’t like it here.”

You had figured as much. “Why, though? Don’t you like your new room? It’s wider and you got new toys.”

Sephiroth shook his head. He was back into being a fidgety bundle of nerves. For a moment you were afraid he’d clam up again, but you worried for nothing.

“ _ Nomen _ , can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything, Seph.”

“...are you going to leave?”

The unexpected doubt had you frozen to the spot. He examined your dumbfounded face, becoming more and more anxious the longer you gaped.

“I’m not leaving.” You shook your head furiously, “Did someone tell you I am?”

It was his turn to shake his head. “Nobody.”

“Then, what makes you think so?”

“....”

“Seph?”

“Because...ever since we moved here, you don’t spend time with me as much.” He was unsettled in your embrace. “Is it because I’m always angry at your friend?”

“My friend…?” It took some time to realize who he was referring to. “Oh, you mean Veld??”

He nodded weakly.

“You’re wrong. I mean, yeah, you turn into a little monster every time he’s around,” you supplied with a teasing tone, making sure he knew it was not a form of reprimand. He let out a shy laugh when his nose was booped. “But, Sephiroth, that’s not the reason I’ve been spending less time with you.”

“Then, did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. You’ve been amazing.”

“Then why?”

“Blame your father.”

The boy bristled instantly. “Did he do something?”

“No, no, I was joking!” His sudden defensiveness was simply too funny. “He got promoted, you know. Remember the guys who took you away? They were horrible employees and their boss got President Shinra angry.”

A flicker of reminiscence darkened the child’s expression. “They did?”

“Yes. The boss wasn’t just mean, he stole the president’s money, so he and those guys who helped him were punished.”

“Punished?”

“Uh huh. They’re sent away, far from here so we don’t have to deal with any of them again.” The giddiness in your voice when talking about someone’s misery should make you feel guilty, yet it honestly didn’t. “But because they’re sent away, now your father has to replace him.” You deliberately paused to make sure he followed, only continuing when he posed no question, “Your father has to clean up the mess they’ve made, and because I’m his assistant, I have to help him, too. That’s why I’ve been spending less time with you, not because you did anything wrong.”

“But I still don’t like it.”

“I know, it sucks,” you offered an apologetic smile.

His fingers were back to fiddling your shirt’s button — a habit you noticed would appear every time he was nervous or upset. He looked so dejected that your heart ached at the sight.

“Hey, look at me. I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to read you that new story book.”

With the way he acted glumly, you wouldn’t be surprised if rain clouds started to gather around him.

“Aw...don’t be like that. How about we make a deal?”

“What deal?” Despite trying to look as uninterested as possible, the fact that he posed that question itself betrayed him.

“You know I still see you everyday, right? In those daily visits I can’t stay too long like I did. Even if I asked your father to spare me, he’d never grant me the same amount of free time. Hell, I’d be surprised if he agreed at all,” you snickered mischievously, imagining your mentor going ballistic at the first sign of his subordinate slacking. “But, anyway, I have the weekends all to myself. If you can be patient during the weekdays and be a good boy, I’ll ask your father to let me take you outside so we can spend time together.”

“But we’re already outside.”

“Not this outside, dear.” You brought him close to a floor to ceiling window down the hall and pointed at the open space beyond. “That outside.”

At the sight of Midgar’s cityscape — a scatter of shining edifices beneath an endless sky, or in his eyes, was a vastness of the unknown that promised freedom — Sephiroth stilled as if currently spellbound. A small flock of starlings flew right where your fingers pointed. Their reflections were glinting on the sleek surface of glass, anointed by the sun.

“What do you think?”

The birds migrated northeast in search of a breeding ground. With how desolate the land had become around this city, they had to fly further towards Kalm, where the land was still welcoming and saturated with Gaia’s lifestream. It was a rare spectacle that would captivate anyone with an ounce of appreciation for nature. Fortunately your young companion seemed to fit inside the category. He sounded breathless when he whispered, “Okay.”

Feeling your heart flutter at his admiration, you took his small hand in yours and shook it, “Alright, that’s a deal.”

The boy was too entranced to complete the handshake, but you treated it as seriously as one would a covenant. The rounded eyes were captured helpless. He kept trying to get a glimpse of the foreign world, going as far as twisting uncomfortably in your arms when you had moved past the window. His expression turned sullen after plain, white walls replaced the blue, radiant sky. You were tempted to spoil the boy by letting him ogle as much as he wanted. Sadly, as you had explained, you didn’t have the much coveted free time.

Sephiroth seemed to accept his fate. He only clung to you with hundreds of unanswered questions buzzing in his head. Several of them he managed to ask. “What are those birds?” “Where are they going?” “Why were they flying in a group?” He unleashed a barrage of question after question. You were all too happy to answer each and every one of them. This curious child is the healthy child you knew him to be, not the one filled with doubts or anxiety. You dearly hoped he could stay this unaffected even if things around him had to change.

“Okay, here we are.”

The two of you arrived at your destination: a storage room Hojo had magically turned into a makeshift pediatric clinic. He’d taken the liberty of his position to relocate vital facilities to places he deemed convenient. His office, labs, and his son’s facilities — nursery, his caretaker’s room and yours, an added playroom — were put into the same level within close proximity. He had miraculously persuaded President Shinra to transfer the division to whole different floors at the top. Apparently the recent incident had convinced the company’s engineers to place hazardous areas in a separate section of the tower, where if another explosion were to occur, it would be isolated on the area and wouldn’t damage the building’s foundations. The old labs at the basement were now mostly unused except for depository purposes, only half of them remained. Hollander’s former level was left unrepaired. You didn’t know exactly what the planned result would be, but apparently it was prepared to become an indoor training ground of some sort.

Stepping inside the homely decorated clinic, you were greeted by, first, the presence of doctor Thaddeus and, second, the newly arriving professor himself. The latter’s grouchy existence looked awfully out of place among comforting plushies and polychromatic animal stickers. His face was already a menace, especially with the busted nose covered in surgical bandages, but whenever he had to be in this particular room, the ominous aura around him seemed to intensify. He was constantly in a glaring battle with the smiley faces of stuffed cactuars and Moglins.

“Hello, Sephiroth. How are you today?” Thaddeus addressed his only patient amiably, not expecting an answer of any kind. “Come, sit with me.” Sephiroth was a bit wary when you had to let him down onto the examination table, but he settled soon after seeing you were going nowhere.

You stepped aside to observe with a clipboard and pen ready. Your mentor sat on a chair nearby with arms crossed. Only recently, following his child’s growth and mental development, he had deemed it necessary for an expert to help achieve the best progress. Your involvement had been reduced when it came to the boy’s medical exam. Sir Thaddeus — a name which he himself abbreviated as Teddy, was a pediatrician who’d worked in the field for more than 50 years, 20 of which was devoted to Midgar’s first regional hospital. He had been preparing for retirement when Hojo himself requested his team’s assistance. The old doctor readily accepted once he was well informed about Sephiroth’s extraordinary physical and mental capacity.

Last week, the boy had undergone a series of tests to determine his advancement level. The results were supposed to be out today, hence your mentor’s rare attendance for his son’s routine physical check ups. He waited patiently as Thaddeus worked with the efficiency of a veteran. The old man’s every movement was swift, his tone articulate and unthreatening, that nearing the end of the process, he managed to make Sephiroth smile hesitantly from a joke about intestinal worms. You considered it to be a feat remembering how closed off the boy could be.

Sometime in the middle of the examination, a knock on the door preceded the arrival of a nurse. She brought with her a dossier you believed to be the awaited test results. Doctor Thaddeus accepted it with gratitude and sent her away immediately. He then proceeded to carry Sephiroth off of the table but the boy snarled and clawed at his arms midway, forcing the old man to hastily lower him onto the floor.

“Alright, alright, off you go.” Sephiroth was on his feet and back to you in a second. He wasted no time waiting to be lifted up. The boy climbed onto your lap with his own strength, then once secured on higher ground, he made sure to face the Thaddeus. You were observing the ordeal the whole time, discovering another trait Sephiroth seemed to consistently exhibit: the boy detested offhanded physical contact from strangers. You didn’t mind the aggressive retreat, but one glance was all it took to know the other two within the room shared a different opinion.

Thaddeus smiled tiredly. His old age was catching up. The crack of his spine ricocheted between the walls when he straightened his back. “Ah, that’s better,” he moaned in relief once he was finally able to rest on a chair.

“How wonderful it is to be young.” The doctor turned his chair to face the desk. He exchanged his glasses to another pair intended for reading. The tips of his bony fingers carefully opened the first page of the dossier. His grey eyes scanned it quickly before he nodded to something only the man alone understood.

With every second passing, your mentor was getting more and more impatient. Like father, like son, Sephiroth himself began to reach for the multitude of stuffed animals on a table nearby. You almost dropped the clipboard in order to balance him on your lap, biting your lip in pain when the child suddenly put his entire weight on one of your thighs. Hojo was oblivious to your struggles. His foot tapped restlessly on the floor as his eyes stared straight into the dossier. When Sephiroth was in the middle of leaning on his elbow against your other thigh, Thaddeus suddenly broke the silence.

“Your son is in great condition, Hojo.” The doctor flipped the document onto the next page. “Physical development is far above average. Taller than most three-year-olds. Heavier, too, due to his muscle mass. Even his cognitive function is far too developed. I’d say, he would have no problem joining an elementary school at this age.” He chuckled astonishedly, combing what was left of his thinning hair with a damp palm. “He can read, speak fluently, his deductive skill is well beyond his year, and his mathematical score is close to 90%.”

Your mentor wasn’t the least impressed. He had known the extent of his child’s prodigiousness like the back of his own hand, “And?”

Thaddeus cleared his throat, trying to keep his bubbly emotion under control. “Despite his age, I highly recommend him to start his formal education soon, if you want to keep the progress going at the rate it currently is.”

Sephiroth paid no heed to whatever was said between his father and the doctor. The boy was more interested in claiming all of the toys for himself. You divided your attention between taking important notes, understanding the doctor’s explanation, and making sure Sephiroth wouldn’t fall flat on his face.

Trying to provide the best solutions, Thaddeus began mentioning special schools for gifted children that might interest Hojo. One of them was located not far from the city, in a seaside town near the coast between Midgar and Kalm. Another one was slightly further towards Junon.

“It’s regrettable that Midgar still has no such school until this very day. I suppose most parents prefer a quieter location for their talented youngs. The most favorable among my former clients was that one near Junon, but seeing as it’s a distance away, the closest one also poses no problem. It’s only a matter of preference.”

You felt your mind going blank. A part of you feared the notion of leaving the child in the hands of another strangers. You couldn’t tell whether your mentor was prone to having the same concern or if he had instead agreed to Thaddeus’ suggestion.

“Those types of institutions provide a better facility to handle children that have gone far beyond their age group. They apply a different system to those of normal schools. Classes are not limited to a certain age and the duration of a semester can be shortened in accordance to each pupil’s competence. From what I heard, even certain children are given special care by A-list private educators if they are proven to be too... _ singular _ .”

Hojo hinted no response to Thaddeus’ revelation. He was most likely still weighing his options, clueless to your increasingly jittery stares. You were fiercely screaming to the gods from within your mind. If Hojo had the ability of a telepath, he’d know well how much you wanted him to disapprove of the doctor’s idea. You outwardly shook your head, but the movement was too slight and covered by Sephiroth’s constantly moving limbs for anyone to notice.

“I can give you the necessary contacts for immediate admission. They would usually test the child prior, but seeing as your son has fulfilled the necessary criterion, there’s no reason for them to reject him.”

_ ‘Thaddeus was a good man and he had nothing but Sephiroth’s best interest in mind’ _ , you had to keep reminding yourself. It still didn’t erase the fact that you wanted his mouth to stop talking for a second. Your mentor was being too deliberately quiet as if he knew exactly how tormented you’d be by the uncertainty.

“Furthermore, I’m pretty sure no school would reject an opportunity to assist one of Shinra’s most prestigious projects. You can-”

“You have their contacts.”

You couldn’t help craning your neck in Hojo’s direction. The professor finally noticed his apprentice’s unease and looked back, but he gave nothing aside from a flicker of judgemental gaze.

“Yes, I do. Do you want me to inform them about the admission?”

“No. Give them to me.”

Thaddeus paused for a second, “O-okay.” The doctor hurriedly fished out his PHS to scan through a list of names. Occasionally he’d peek at you or Sephiroth from the screen. “I can give you a recommendation if you intend to-”

“No, Thaddeus. I won’t entrust my specimen to potential imbeciles I barely heard about.”

Your eyes widened in reflex. The straightforward answer was enough to relieve you. Hojo had actually shared the same thought about leaving Sephiroth in the hands of the unknown.

Hojo’s PHS dinged with the message sent from Thaddeus’ device. The old man was frozen in his seat, probably trying to understand that his suggestion had been flat out rejected. “I see.” He cleared his throat once more. “Then what do you need their contacts for?”

The professor checked the contacts he’d received on his device. He snapped the phone close after seeing the list he needed and tucked it back into a pocket. “You said something about private educators.”

Thaddeus nodded, “...I did.”

“And they are the best?”

“Absolute best.”

“Then, I want them to come here.”

Apparently being in a position of power granted one some privileges mere plebeians wouldn’t ever dream of. Hojo had said that last line in the same manner a parent would propose a painfully easy solution to their child’s hyperbolized problem. He leaned back on the chair and entwined his long fingers, sending a lazy look at the doctor behind the desk, “I’m done having inept strangers putting their hands where they don’t belong. I  _ want _ them to come here.”

Thaddeus, even going into his fifth decade of experience, had never heard of such a pompous request being made in regards to this matter. Parents would either scramble to get their children admitted or step back in defeat knowing they’d never be granted the opportunity. But, to get the private educators to come here? That was a whole different level of self-assertion. Or probably a more befitting title would be  _ self-conceit _ ? Nevertheless, it should have been expected, coming from a man belonging to Shinra. He had wanted to explain how borderline ludicrous the demand would be, but seeing Hojo’s steadfastness, Thaddeus gave up before he even began to open his mouth.

The doctor had run out of things to say. He could only nod in surrender. “I honestly don’t know if that’s possible...but one could never know until it’s done.”

Hojo snorted. “Oh, I’m going to make them an offer they can’t refuse. They will come.” The professor’s unchanging certitude, combined with his dismissive attitude, as he rose from his chair instantly ended any kind of doubt.

Sephiroth was sent back with a new stuffed toy stolen from Sir Teddy’s room to add to his ever-growing collection. Hojo was initially opposed, but because Thaddeus convinced him there would be no harm done, the professor decided to tolerate it. You thanked the old man and went on your way with your little companion. The boy’s attention had been so occupied from admiring the green cactuar that he put up no fight when you began to put him down.

He looked bewildered for a moment, lost in a world of his own mind, until he realized he was back in his crib. Pickle was perched in the corner, staring as if assessing the green addition his owner had brought along. The boy guiltily weighed between his oldest buddy and the desert creature, made up his mind, and released his grasp on the cactuar in favor of the chocobo. He finally turned his attention back to you. From the insolent look that flashed for a split second, you knew he was going to protest your departure, but decided against it as he was reminded of the deal you made by the window.

_ “If you can be patient during the weekdays and be a good boy, I’ll ask your father to let me take you outside so we can spend time together.” _

His expression gradually soured like spoiled milk. He forced himself to wave you the sweetest goodbye he could manage. Eredith was beside him as soon as you stepped one foot outside. She smiled politely as she always did, offering some sort of consolation to both you and the one you had to leave behind.

With the warm image of your young companion's smile, you toughened up once again, ready to face the rest of the day. There were tasks to complete before midnight. Hojo had firmly stated his need for assistance rearranging documents transported from the previous labs. There were more than two hundred journals waiting to be labeled so the librarians could shelf them properly. You ran a double check in your mind, making sure you missed nothing from the imaginary to-do list.

A bunch of haggard personnel had occupied the library prior to your arrival. The clutters of papers were as white as the faces of worn-out researchers trying to sort them out. Your familiar presence distracted some from their seemingly unending responsibility. The glimmer of relief in their hollow stares hinted how happy they were to welcome a helping hand. Those who took no notice of you were either too near the point of breakdown or already knocked out on the floor. A feeble wave of a hand to your left revealed Soren among the depressing sight, resembling a beam flickering on its last reserve of energy.

You hesitantly approached the man. He was too tired to offer anything but a weary smile and a direction to the destiny you were condemned to: dozens of unsorted journals stacked precariously on a wooden desk. Even with the help of Soren’s entire team, there were still aplenty that required your attention. They were Hojo’s personal research papers none of your colleagues knew how – or even bothered – to sort out. The burden was all left to you to carry.

An empty chair silently waited for you. The screech of its feet against the floor disrupted the mortuary silence, causing more than a few faces to grimace. You whispered an apology that went on deaf ears. As you took your seat and began going through the first of many papers, most people had gone back to their half-dead state. Soren, too, had literally dived nose first into the documents above his desk the next time you saw him. He had given up fighting fatigue altogether.

You became the only one left wide-awake not long into your endeavor of scanning through the multi-paged journals while deciding which one of the three colored post-it notes would mark the cover. Yellow was meant for shelf I, II, and II-a, while green was meant for shelf III, and lastly, blue for a separate shelf in the backroom where Hojo’s past collaborative research with his associates were archived. You were required to make a short description for each document, and to do so, understanding at least the introduction and conclusion of each paper before categorizing them was a must. Yet with your mentor’s tendency to venture into complex and oftentimes uncharted territories of the so-called science, simply grasping a notion conveyed in each paragraph became such a labor. It took a painstakingly long time for you to progress halfway. The repeated process of reading, comprehending, and classifying seized every bit of one’s attention that when you decided to take a break for the first time, you were surprised to find the library mostly empty.

Throughout the hours you had distantly noticed some people moving about the room, but when exactly had they left, you were pretty much oblivious. Your dozing colleague was one of the few still stuck with you. He still rested on a desk, completely abandoning his work. If Hojo were to walk in right at this moment, no one would be able to save him from the man’s wrath.

A mischievous smirk formed on your lips. You looked around for a blank piece of paper and crumpled it, aiming at his forehead with trained precision. Soren jerked up from a slouched position. He frantically checked his surroundings with wide eyes, clearly wary of the a certain insufferable man, yet he searched to no avail. There were only you and a few others who snickered impishly.

“Shiva’s tits…. I thought the boss was gonna walk in.” The man threw the piece of paper back at you. “You done over there?”

You desperately tried holding back a bark of laughter, pointing to the stack of documents still unchecked on your desk. “Halfway there.”

Another long period of concentration often followed by frustration passed so briefly as everyone was absorbed in the monotony. One by one, the stacks of unmarked documents diminished, grouped into their multi-colored categories. The atmosphere gradually uplifted with every bundle being marked. Soren was on the verge of a smile by the time he reached for his final document.

Your condition was slightly less fortunate, or appropriately put, was deteriorating unexpectedly.

You had to blink rapidly to clear your vision. Staying focused somehow turned into a struggle, for a tightness in your chest had suddenly reappeared sometime through the second half of your pile. As if out of nowhere, the sensation of a hundred needles prickled your respiration canal. The fit of cough that followed was violent and abrupt akin to that night you came down from the roof. It felt like you were choking on your own tissues, causing sharp pains to stab yourself from the inside out.

What rather soon came to your mind was nothing but a simple question of  _ why _ . Nothing had been amiss. Unlike the previous attack, you weren’t in the middle of physical exertion or anything possibly leading to a shortness of breath. That one time it first occurred, you had been convinced, was a consequence born out of carelessness. But this even more random relapse spoke to you of a truth you wanted to ignore: that something was definitely wrong.

Soren was by your side in a matter of seconds. He thought you had choked on something and was prepared to administer a Heimlich maneuver, but upon seeing the blood splattered from your lips, the man froze in his spot, reduced to a helpless spectator until your throat gradually opened on its own and you were once more able to breathe, almost as if nothing had transpired at all.

You looked at the palm of your hand, tainted red from droplets of blood. The whole room was paying close attention to the sight but no one dared to say or do anything, even you. Everyone was afraid the smallest change would trigger another fit. You shivered as cold sweat dripped from your skin profusely. The joints of your hand were clammy with blood mixed with perspiration. All eyes mirrored yours, they were petrified and frigid as if caught in a trance.

“Wait,  _ Nomen _ !”

You let the memory of your body took over. Soren’s calls of your name went unanswered. You weren’t exactly sure where your steps would lead you. With every beat of your frantic heart, the vision reflected in your eyes changed rapidly in merged sequences. The library door was the first thing you remembered leaving. There was a long hallway which you passed until a turn was taken here, and there, and one more over there. Confused faces and worrisome people appeared and disappeared. Questions to your wellbeing were thrown on more than one occasion, but they also went unanswered. Instead, you became the one to wonder,  _ why _ would they even ask?

You were merely passing, or so you supposed, until the image of yourself on a tinted window confirmed otherwise. There were stains of crimson around your lips, peppering your collar, and adorning the creases on your palm. Your eyes caught its own gaze and instantly realized how empty they looked. That person in the shadowy glass looked the farthest from a mere passerby.  _ You _ looked like someone who’d escaped a crime scene, someone  _ sickly _ .

The pair of legs you stood on began moving itself towards the direction of a lone chamber. It took a delayed moment for you to recognize the visuals from the exterior of your mind. Inside was where the collection of your experiment subjects were. Their white fur should be lush under a warming bulb of light, glowing eyes flashing with alertness, all the while their small jaws perpetually masticated a mixture of grass and dried flowers. Also, was where the vials of green were organized according to their percentage of effect, to a line of ascending success rate.

_ There would be no need to worry. Just go inside, reach for the concoction of your own making. _

From the edge of your vision, a hand lifted itself towards the door. It smeared coagulating blood onto the metallic surface. Shaky fingers tensed around the handle before turning it clockwise, slowly, until the wet skin slipped and the handle clacked. But the door was yet open.

You looked at the palm of that hand in bewilderment.

Ah, the blood was causing trouble. You had to wipe it away.

_ Yes. Make it clean. On the pristine white of your lab coat. _

As you lowered it with the palm facing the ground, a second hand appeared to snatch the first. You felt a dull but concentrated sensation of pain. The bones beneath were hurting though not cracking.

Someone had managed to clutch your wrist.

“Have you finally lost it as well?!” They whispered vehemently.

Ever so slowly, the venom in the voice seeped into your mind, clearing the haze that had autonomically guided you here. The dilated ring of your pupils shrunk to let them focus on what, or who, was right in front of you. Then were you able to realize, there wasn’t just one, but two in your company: your mentor and Eredith. And they were only the ones closest to you. A murmur of voices indicated the mass of spectators standing not a far distance behind. You must’ve made quite the spectacle. A bloodied person frozen in befuddlement, who’d been ignoring every question thrown her way, startled to alertness by the touch of a hand.

Something was undoubtedly wrong, but to what extent and whether something could be done about it still lied in the unknown. The level of nescience you found yourself trapped in caused an already growing seed of fear to bud. You felt your stomach drop and your throat dried. If it weren’t for Hojo’s tightening grip around your wrist, for the pain he inflicted upon you, you would probably break out into cold sweat once again.

The professor’s eyes were darker than an obsidian – a whirlpool of labyrinthine mind you found easy to drown in, and soaking in it you did. It was a far more forgiving alternative compared to being confined in an overwhelming solicitude. He became the sole anchor amidst a frightening reality. You were able to break the invisible shackles subduing your articulation.

To the pair of black eyes peering down upon your unsightly form, you answered, “No, sir.”

* * *

You never knew the sound of pen scratching on paper could dampen the wicked noises inside one’s own head. Your hand danced a ballet following the steps of an imaginary allegro. Frantic thoughts that bounced chaotically in the void were once impossible to touch. Now, each word flowed smoothly like water pouring from a spring – unbound, pure – despite the gray fog that recently became a frequent visitor to spread a sheet of haziness over your mind.

Remembrance, ideas, outrageous assumptions. You welcomed everything. After a month of vacillation between ‘to write or to let go’, the night where you could spill everything sans hesitation finally came.

_ “What kind of trouble have you caused this time, you pathetic child?” Hojo forcefully led you to a room without uninvited onlookers, leaving Eredith’s mystifying gaze to linger until the two of you were obstructed from view. “Are you wounded?” _

_ “I’m not sure, professor.” _

_ His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I burnt your hand that day and it inexplicably healed _ . _ ” A feeling of unease began to appear as he pinned you with an eerily calculating scrutiny. “I refrained from asking out of respect for your loyalty. But now I  _ must _ know what you did. Why aren’t you healing now?” _

_ Again, your tongue failed to deliver any kind of sensible explanation. “I don’t know.” _

_ The man was starting to lose patience. “What do you know, then, you idiot?!” He jerked the front of your bloodied attire. _

Traces of red on fabric had been turned coppery in the course of a day. The soiled coat was thrown carelessly over your bed. You should’ve cleaned it before the stains refused to wash, lest it would keep reminding you of the skeptical disposition a doctor unabashedly presented. 

_ “You experienced sudden attacks until blood got coughed out of your lungs?” _

_ You nodded. _

_ And he snorted in disbelief. _

_ “Are you sure you weren’t making this up?” He showed you a rontgent of your thorax. “There’s nothing wrong with your respiratory system. You’re completely fine,  _ Nomen. _ You’re alright.” _

You’re alright.

Of course.

You’ve heard someone else uttered those exact same words. A person with countenance so familiar yet was closer to being a stranger. Someone whose name you didn’t even know, someone whose existence you weren’t even sure was real.

While staring at an empty vial still glowing green from traces of distilled mako, the woman’s chilling order replayed.

She had said,  _ endure. _

Against debilitating pain that seared into the last bit of your cells, she had said,  _ endure _ .

_ My son needs you _ .

The pen in your grasp fell onto the floor. Your hands came to cover the exposed skin of your throat, as if by doing so you could soothe the phantom pain that continued to eat you alive. Shivers shook your spine until its ability to hold you upright was lost. A thud cut through the still air after your upper body surrendered to gravity and fell upon the hardwood desk.

Your breath came in stilted. It felt ironic to be reduced to this state: resembling a panting dog on a stifling summer day. An odd sense of humor that was born as a way to cope with fear pushed you to giggle rather manically. But your sound of misplaced delight soon transformed into sobs. You cried with dry eyes that refused to shed tears. With the way things keep spiraling out of your control and understanding, your life took an interesting turn that hopefully one day, in a time where these confusing circumstances became nothing but a memory, you could relive it through the hideous scriptures of your writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, you have made it through 60K+ words!
> 
> It's really hard for me to keep the chapters short. There's just too many things I want to add :( So, thanks much for bearing through the lengthy madness :')
> 
> Godspeed, y'all.


End file.
